


Lavender

by scaredofthedarkuniverse



Category: Charmed (TV 2018)
Genre: Awkward Romance, Canon Divergent, Elders are sneaky bitches, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Post 01x10, plants are friends, the Earth is dying-please recycle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2019-10-17 08:05:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 40
Words: 114,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17556515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scaredofthedarkuniverse/pseuds/scaredofthedarkuniverse
Summary: It's just a tattoo. It's just her perfume. It's likely just congestive heart failure.These were all phrases Harry Greenwood associated with the botanist turned housekeeper turned friend currently smirking across the table at him. Now his whole life smelled of lavender and he wondered why he would ever want it any differently. Honestly, he thought he was better at his job; that he had outgrown feelings; that he was better than this.





	1. Bathtub trenches

**Author's Note:**

> This was something I was dabbling in the last few days. It might be very short, if it's not well-received or I might take a crack at continuing it for funsies. Anyway, enjoy! Let me know what you think!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy chapter 1. Let me know how you feel about it!

The air was thick with the scent of sulfur and brimstone. It was damn near impossible to breathe. As much as the Whitelighter tried, he could not fill his lungs without choking. This was death, surely. It really was a pity he could not remember how it had happened the first time around, for it would have at least brought him solace now that this was the end. 

Harry sat up like a shot, white sheets a messy cocoon around his limbs, which he fought so hard to free himself from. Untangling his right arm, he pushed the hair currently plastered to his forehead with sweat away from his eyes. Blinking madly, his brown orbs adjusted to the faint glow of the streetlight streaming from the window to look upon the scarcely yet tastefully furnished room. Everything seemed too normal. Everything was too calm. There was… "Too much space. No one needs this much room, you vain bastard," he grumbled to himself. The clock on the bedside table read a woeful '2:23 AM', and he felt the urge to remind himself that though he felt awful, at least his anxiety was consistent. Though his mind told him there was nothing to fear, the sounds of the condo settling In the cold winter's night sent shivers up his spine. It wasn't until he realized that he was panting that he noticed he had left the warmth of his bed and sprinted into the washroom, pillow, blanket and explosive potion, in tow.

This was better. Or, at least that was what he was going to tell himself until dawn broke and he could safely lock himself into his office at University. The room was smaller, there was little place where a demon could hide. There was little chance of scorpions coming up from the darkness to sting him into submission. Here, he could be safe, surely. After triple checking the locks on the door and window, he lowered himself into dismally cold and empty clawfoot bath, awkwardly settling the pillow under his head and pulling the blanket up to his eyes. The potion, a specimen of Macy's creation, remained clutched in his hand and tight against his chest. Sure, he could probably orb if danger was apparent, but since his return from Tartarus, his powers had been on such a fritz, he couldn't definitively say he would end up anywhere much better. No, he would rather chance the potion. The task of counting down the minutes was tedious, but it gave him something to do. He didn't notice when he slipped off into a panicked slumber, but he sure as hell could remember when he woke up.

_BANG!_

The door crashed open with a blast, and Harry once again sat up with a fright. In his panic, he had let go of the potion and was now frantically looking through the sheets at the bottom of the bath for the small vial. "What the _hell_ is-" the voice stopped itself, shrieking in fright at the fact a pillow had assaulted them, seemingly out of nowhere. Their screams mingled with Harry's for a solid minute of cacophonous chaos. "Professor Greenwood, what are you doing home!?" The young woman screamed, clutching a mop and duster to herself, as if they would protect her from anything.

"I _live_ here, madam, but you already know that!" He screamed back, red in the face, and highly volatile vial in his hand ready to toss. Hearing himself, he felt foolish, but his adrenaline was still too high to leave the 'fight or flight' realm. 

The duster and mop clattered to the floor as she raised her hands in front of her in a defensive stance. "Sorry, Professor. It's just that you're always out when I come in to clean. I get it… hangovers are a bitch," she explained, using a softer, gentler tone, hoping the other occupant would follow suit, even if it felt a bit like trying to placate an angry bear.

"What?" His voice had dropped to normal levels, though his stance was still threatening as ever.

"It's noon and you're sleeping in a bathtub. You're clearly hungover. Aren't... you?"

Harry took a moment to stare around. There was a pool of fabric beneath him, his navy blue pajamas were rumpled and creased, a quick glance at the mirror confirmed his suspicions that he looked like a maniac. All in all, he could see where she was coming from. "Yes, of course," he answered, lowering his hands and pocketing the potion. "That's a better alternative to scorpions, I suppose," he muttered, before he clambered out of the bath and attempted to pull together the last of his dignity. "Alex, would you mind giving me a--"

"Already leaving." With little more than a rustle of objects, she had closed the door behind her and presumably had wandered to the kitchen to avoid him, for the time being.

Thirty minutes later, the Women's Studies professor convinced himself that hiding in his room while his housekeeper sat in the kitchen waiting out his awkwardness was no longer an option. The mere thought of having her look at him like he was having a nervous breakdown filled him with existential dread. Still, he stepped into the wide, airy kitchen looking leaps and bounds better. His charcoal slacks were freshly pressed, his Oxford shirt had creases so sharp they could cut cold butter, and the comically terrible Snoopy tie he was still contorting around his neck made him look just approachable enough despite his dry, sarcastic British persona. Sitting at the kitchen island, his housekeeper, a young woman just shy of thirty-two, sat typing frantically into her laptop. Dark brown wavy hair was smattered with premature greys that only seemed more apparent against the sides of her shaggy her pixie cut, flopped down into her eyes, causing her to blow them away, on an endless, repetitive cycle. "My most sincere apologies. I had a rough night," he said earnestly, smiling at her despite the amusedly dark smirk that she was shooting him.

A snicker was hidden behind a half-hearted cough. "No problem, boss."

"How are you today?" He pulled the tie into the knot of his double Windsor before busying himself with setting the kettle to boil.

Sighing, she closed her computer and crossed her arms over it. "Well, I'm an assistant professor in the sciences and I am cleaning your condo while simultaneously grant writing. I'll let you extrapolate from the data." She made a point to put a flourish on the last sentence in what could only be the most sarcastic tone the magical being had heard in his hundred years. Harry chuckled, setting a teacup in front of her, wordlessly. "Oh, I'm sorry. _Extrapolate_ means--"

"Har har. I wasn't aware you moonlighted as a comedian, as well," he quipped, deadpan, though he had to fight the right corner of his mouth from turning upwards. "I _am_ sorry about your funding falling through, though."

Alex shrugged. "I mean, the country needed more guns, Greenwood. It's not like the Earth is dying and our natural resources are our most precious legacy to guard, lest we perish." Her short tirade had an acidic bite, though it came from a person casually stretching her arms forward to allow her spine to pop, like a cat. Sarcasm was a language he was now well-versed in, thanks to her. It kept him from making statements of pity, which was exactly what she wanted, and he respected it. Instead, he poured the freshly steeped brew into her cup, and passed her the honey before pouring himself a cup. "Thank you, professor."

"For the millionth time, _Harry_ is fine." Frowning over his sip of tea, he reached for a small flower pot sitting on the kitchen island that he had not noticed before. "What's this?"

He watched her fidget, just like anytime he asked her a direct question, and patiently waited for her to get through her shrug and wave-off show to answer. "Lavender. You said something or other about scorpions. Lavender keeps them away," she said simply, re-opening her laptop and gone back to writing.

Glancing at his watch, he took stock of his internal clock, hoping he had not blacked out again and left the poor woman to her devices out here. "Heavens! How long was I even in the bath?"

Her eyes didn't even leave the laptop screen. "Oh, it was in my car. I was going to bring it up, anyway."

Harry looked around the condo. Most, if not all the plants he currently owned were brought up by the younger professor when she had started cleaning his abode for extra income. They always seemed to be flourishing and made his empty condo seem livelier. It wasn't much of a surprise for a botanist to have a green thumb, but the flowering lavender in the small pot was unexpectedly lush for the dead of winter. "I… er… appreciate the thought. Thank you."

Alex drained the last of her tea before hopping off the barstool. "I'll take a crack at the bathroom and then I'll be out of your hair."

"No rush," he called out, distractedly, as she disappeared into the bedroom with cleaning supplies.


	2. Battle scars

A month back home had been no easier for Harry Greenwood to deal with than his week at Tartarus. Even though Parker's demonic father and brother were both out of the picture, it seemed the population of Hilltowne that worked for the dark side had decided the vacancy was not cause for hiding. In fact, they had taken it upon themselves to redouble their efforts of trying to kill him and his charges. Every day was a new struggle, and his bruised and battered body, which never had the chance to get back to fighting shape, showed it. 

"Maybe today I'll die and actually get some damn rest," he groaned, forcing himself out of the overstuffed armchair of his study and rolling down the sleeves of his pajama top to cover the dark webs that still lived on his skin. Waddling to his front door, he twisted it open just as the rattling of keys announced an incoming being. "The door unlocks to the right, unlike most. You should know this by now, Alex."

Green eyes went wide as saucers as they trailed over the whitelighter. " _Fucking hell, dude._ "

He scoffed, shaking his head dismissively. "Good morning to you, as well."

The gravity of his current condition finally caught up to his housekeeper. To see Harry disheveled, especially recently, was not an uncommon occurrence. To see him looking like he was beaten to a pulp was a whole new matter, altogether. "Did you get jumped? What the hell happened to you?"

"Women's studies accident. You'd be surprised how often it-" His tone was a thousand percent coarser than it needed to be, but to be fair, his face was in an awful lot of pain.

"Cut the bullshit, Greenwood." Tossing her backpack to the side, Alex grabbed the surly man by the crook of the elbow, leading him with a lot more care than he thought her capable of onto the sofa. He hissed as she gently prodded his face and mumbled to no one in particular. "Wait here." Before he could complain that she was making a fuss, she had already run off to the kitchen. If he craned his neck to a particularly uncomfortable angle, he could see the edges of a blur, moving back and forth with a pair of kitchen shears, attacking the well-kempt white window boxes that lined the sun-soaked room. "Do you have a mortar and pestle?" She asked, peeking her head out to the sitting room. "Never mind, of course you don't," she added, not bothering to wait for an answer.

Harry rolled his eyes, sinking back into the cushions and hoping to the heavens above that his number be up. "Of course, I have a mortar and pestle. Do you think I'm a heathen? It's in the cabinet above the sink," he grumbled, just loud enough for her to hear. There was a yelled _Thank you_ from the other room, along with clattering from an unknown source. A moment later, she had all but bounded out of the kitchen with the mortar, kicking her sneakers off on the way in order to abide by Harry's very strict 'no shoes on the carpet' policy. Taking a half second to catch her breath, she tugged her jeans up before they slid any further down her hips and boldly sat herself down on what had to be Harry's favorite coffee table. "Bloody Americans. Do you mind? That's an antique."

"I'm Puerto Rican, it's different," Alex replied, almost automatically. "And everything here, _including your messed up face_ , is an antique," she retorted, ignoring the stony glare being cast upon her and worrying more about dipping her fingers into the greenish paste in the container and delicately applying it onto the entirety of his face with rapt concentration.

He sucked in a hard breath through clenched teeth at the contact. "That stings like the dickens."

Alex snorted, giving the man a disbelieving look, but laying off on the pressure, regardless. "You know, I would make a lot less fun of you if you just cussed like a normal human, Harry." The last of the cuts was smeared, a particularly deep cut on his right eyebrow that cause him to wince in pain. 

"Perhaps, if I had been born in a barn and raised by wolves, I'd consider the option, Dr. Figueroa." She rolled her eyes, ignoring his petulance, just this once in favor of memorizing the look of his face covered in green goop, watching as he crinkled his nose to sniff himself, though the action sent pain through his whole face. "I smell like potpourri."

"Must be a welcome change of pace, then."

A rogue eyebrow betrayed his generally emotionless mask that had just begun to overtake his features. "Are you suggesting I have an unpleasant scent?"

"Of course, not, boss. I'm merely suggesting that it's only once in a blue moon that you reek of something other than tea," she riposted, placing the mortar beside her without breaking the intense eye contact he now had on her. It seemed like ages, the time they stared at each other, a visual game of chicken they were both too proud to lose. Brown eyes on green, neither blinked, until a rogue cold breeze from the open kitchen window wafted the heavily scented perfume under both of their noses, causing them to sneeze and they simultaneously broke into laughter. With a sigh, she leaned back on her palms. "Don't you have class on Tuesdays?"

He nodded wistfully, suddenly feeling like a lazy sod, taking the day off on account of a few bruises. "I do. I can't really show up to class like I've been in a barfight, can I? One of my students took over, Mel Vera. She's truly an awful TA, but my students will be too terrified of her to forget anything she teaches them." 

A giggle loosed from the botanist's throat, nodding in agreement. "I had the pleasure of TA'ing Mel for Gen Bio when I was a student. She staged a revolution against Linnaeus for wanting to classify worldkind." They sat in comfortable silence for a while longer before Alex clapped her hands decisively. "Well, that's my cap for small talk time. I'm going to straighten out the kitchen. You can do… whatever it is you do. I'm not entirely clear. Boats in bottles, maybe? _You seem the type._ " Harry rolled his eyes, wanting to get a word in before she smiled, winked and grabbed the mortar off the coffee table before leaving him to his own devices. 

Harry followed her with his gaze, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lip as he watched her socks declare 'I am a delicate fucking flower' every time she took a step. Despite the fact she was crass, foul-mouthed, impulsive, and tended to make fun of him on a daily basis, Alex was always good company. Brilliant in her own right, she was a young scientist just given a professorship. However, it was getting harder and harder for ecologically-minded people to get money for research, and despite being a professor, her position paid barely more than minimum wage. It wasn't until after he had responded to her postings offering housekeeping services in one of the faculty lounges that he even knew she was a professor. He had been so taken aback that he had agreed to her rate without question, and even added extra if she helped him 'spruce the place up'. She had inundated his home with plants and kept the place spotless. He didn't exactly need the money and his guilt over being handed a very cushy admin position meant that he would agree to pay her in blood, if she asked it. After all, she really was good.

Deciding that he had been idle for long enough, he shuffled into the bedroom, taking care not to betray the fact his whole body burned when he moved. Once in the sanctity of his room, he laid out his clothes for the day and sauntered into the bathroom. He ran the tap, intending to shave before he got on with the rest of his routine, only to be startled by his own reflection in the mirror. His face was covered in an oily green goop that looked more like pesto than anything else, but what really caught his attention was that he could barely see the remnants of scars on his face and the bruises he once sported on his cheekbones had turned into nothing more than a dusky blush over his rosy skin. Standing on his tiptoes, he leaned forward inspecting his face more closely, pushing his way this way and that and noting that there was no pain, but rather a gentle tingle. This was most peculiar. 

Once out of his room, he found that most of his condo was clean and Alex was in the kitchen, having decided that his surplus herbs needed preservation. The oven was pre-heating to its lowest setting and all the sheet pans he owned were lined in baking paper and ready for drying. Alex was sitting directly on the countertop, labeling jars when he walked in. "You're back. I put the kettle on for you. I figured if you were that grouchy, you hadn't had your tea, yet." Putting down the last jar, she hopped down, running her hands under the tap and drying them off on her floral t-shirt despite there being a towel within arm's reach. 

"Right, yes. Thank you." Harry's tone sounded uncertain. Awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, he ventured a question. "What was in that salve, anyway?"

"Oh, er…" she busied herself with rolling basil leaves in tight bundles and running a knife through them to chop them finely before she answered. Harry couldn't quite convince himself anything was amiss. His powers had been all over the place since he went to hell and back, his healing was already faster than any ordinary human, and he spent so little time sleeping nowadays that this whole ordeal could just be in his head. Honestly, he was more than worried that he was losing his mind. "Let's see," Alex said amicably, as she rested the tip of the knife on the board and recalled her mishmash. "Rose hips, basil, thyme, lemon oil, lemongrass… er… oh, and lavender. It was my grandmother's recipe. Why do you ask? Does it itch?" She looked concerned as she appraised him.

"No. It's not that. It just worked leaps and bounds better than I thought it would," he replied, cautiously. 

Tilting her head with a frown, she returned to the task at hand, now pulling rosemary off of its stalks and onto the parchment in small bundles. "Well, everything looks worse when it's caked in blood, Professor Greenwood. I'm sure you know that."

"I suppose. That remedy, it is almost _magical_ , wouldn't you say?" He let the word simmer in the air for a moment, gauging her response to it with a keen eye. 

Alex laughed, the noise tinkling in the air against his tense and coiled position opposite her. "Of course. That's what I'd do with magic, Harry. I'd fix your face. Never mind ensuring my own success, there's a woman's studies professor who fell down the stairs that needs me." She giggled, shaking her head dismissively. 

"Got it," he said, shortly, wanting to go back to his room and hide under the sheets, but opting to hide in his study, instead.

"Wait, don't you want to know how I acquired my magical lavender from a centaur?" She called after him in a peel of laughter.


	3. War of roses

There was no denying that Harry was spent. A relatively calm week, by that meaning there had been six demons to vanquish rather than the usual dozen, had done little to quell the ache that reached his very bones. Sitting cross-legged in the overstuffed chair of his study, he balanced the book in his hands onto his lap so he could use his crooked right index finger to peek under the sleeve of his left. The lines had faded some, but they still ran a stark, ashy grey against his pale skin. His orbing didn't quite take the full life out of him anymore, but his locations were still off, sometimes by blocks. Still, in his mind he remarked that it had been off by miles when he first returned from the prison. As if on an imperceptible cue, Alex had leaned her body against the door jamb, leaving only her head, wrapped in a red scarf like Rosie the Riveter, visible in the shadowed doorway. 

"I don't want to tell you how to live your life, _well, I do, but that's besides the point_ , but you need to get the hell out if you want me to clean this room," she announced, in quite a friendly tone, despite the heft of the message. 

Had he not known the woman better, he would have been offended at her off-handed remarks. Instead, he opted for a gentle smile as he pulled attention away from his lifted cuff and snapped his book shut. "Oh, of course. I'll be out of your hair in a moment." With a sigh, he cast his eyes upon the mantel of the seldom used wood-burning fireplace. "I suppose I'm just brooding. I think I over-loved one of my lavender plants," he added, gesturing towards an ornate, round pot with a bundle of wilting lavender plants hanging off the top. 

Immediately, she had taken a step inside of the moodily lit study. "Dear Lord! What did you do?" Her tone sounded to Harry like she was scolding a small child, though. He found the sentiment ironic, seeing as that in her denim overalls, t-shirt and Converse, she looked ages younger than his sensible trousers, Oxford and sweater vest counterpart. "Were you angry it wasn't giving up State secrets and decided to waterboard it or what?"

Despite the fact that it was just a potted plant, Alex looked genuinely upset at the state of the poor thing. He would admit that he debated whether or not to touch the thing, but he thought that it was looking rather less perky than usual. "It looked thirsty!" He defended, taking a few steps away from her disappointed warpath stomp to allow her to take control of the planter. 

"I'm going to put her in the sun and see what I can do to undo this murder attempt." She wagged an index finger in his face. "You are no longer allowed to touch the plants," Alex warned, fixing a narrowed gaze on his form, ignoring the hands he raised in a plead for mercy. "I'll be back in once I deal with this." 

Without so much as a backwards glance, she left the study, leaving Harry to stare at her retreating form. It had been an honest mistake made by a person who had not tended to such delicate plant life in a long, long time. He supposed he had to at least _try_ to help. Allowing himself a twenty second head start, he quietly followed behind, footsteps barely making any noise on the carpeted floor. Peeking around a corner, he stopped dead in his tracks, as he watched Alex place the mostly dead plant on the kitchen island and sprinkle something over the dirt as she recited in a soft voice. " _Haec lux vitam restituere planta._ " A light burst from the soil, glowing incandescently for several seconds before it faded into nothingness and the plant perked up significantly. With a smile, she gently ran her fingertips over the delicate stems. "Did the bad man drown you?" The lavender shoots bent and swayed to her touch. With wide eyes, Harry peeked a little further, watching with fascination as the stems prodded at her fingers and then swayed towards the entryway as if pointing… as if pointing at _him_. 

The word dropped from his lips before he had even noticed. " _Fuck_."

Alex gasped, turning around to face him and walking backwards ever-so-slowly until she had side-stepped behind the kitchen island to put some sort of obstacle between them. From within the haze of confusion, Harry noticed that she looked like she was just about to jump out of her skin. Her eyes were wide and glassy and nearly looked like black holes from the way her pupils had dilated, jumping around her trying to calculate a way out. Harry took cautious steps, trying to make himself as non-threatening as humanly possible. However, the intention seemed to get lost in translation as Alex reached for a knife from the block behind her and held it firmly before her. 

"Alex, there's no need for rash decisions. I promise-" With a twitch of her wrist a creeper vine in a hanging basket had twined itself around his neck and his left hand and would have kept on going had it had any more length to spare. "I'm not going to hurt you, I swear."

Though for a brief moment uncertainty flashed in her eyes, her resolve steeled itself in her trembling form. "Yeah, well, I've heard that before," she retorted, jutting her chin out, defiantly. "Look, I don't know what your deal is, what you are, or what you want from the Charmed ones. Just know that I will kill you a million times over, right now, if there's even the slightest possibility that you mean anyone any harm"

A cloud of confusion entered his mind, not that it was much clearer before. "The Ch- Why would _I_ want to hurt the Charmed ones!?"

"I don't know, but don't act like you don't follow them everywhere!"

He looked offended by the accusation. "Pardon? I do not follow them _everywhere_!"

She scoffed. "Sure, you don't. All women's studies professors hang out at the Haunt with their students. And don't get me started on how you mysteriously got that position after _their mother died_. What, are you dealing in information you… you… whatever? You're bad people!" She yelled, gesturing wildly, the vine tightening just a touch every time she got overwhelmed. 

"It's my _job_ to be there, I am their _whitelighter_ , Alex!" He hissed, partly out of exasperation, partly because of lack of oxygen. 

Alex frowned, shaking her head in denial, though her conviction was failing. "No. No, no. He said, he _told_ me whitelighters were rarely men."

"Yes, rarely. Not _never_. Didn't think I'd have to explain statistics to you, of all people," Harry retorted, face reddening under the vine's pressure. "Mel, Maggie, and Macy are my charges."

A beat passed before Alex made any indication of understanding. "Fine, then prove it. If you're a whitelighter, you can orb out of those vines. So, why haven't you done that, yet?"

He forced a laugh out at the question. "Right. About that, it's really a funny story actually, but the short version is my powers are a little out of sorts and I can't do that right now," he explained, words tumbling out of his mouth in a rush. For a second the vines tightened further, as the look of disbelief on Alex's face grew. "No, please. Alex, I swear on the sacred oath I took that I am not lying to you!" 

A tense silence stretched between them for what seemed like an eternity. Alex was busy looking between him and the room, her empty hand twisting a handful of denim from her overalls in frustration. A blink of an eye later, the vines unfurled from around Harry's neck. He doubled over, taking large gulps of air in an attempt to rid himself of the dark spots currently swimming in his vision and refocus on the room around him. After a moment, he could stand to look at her without his vision going blurry. He had only a moment as he watched, in slow motion, as she raised the knife to her arm and sliced her forearm open, a heavy trickle of blood flowing down her fingers and onto the floor and causing her to sway slightly in place. "I hope your healing is doing better than your orbing, then."

"For fuck's sake. Alexandra!" His tone was scolding, though in reality he was more anxious than anything else.

Alex had the gall to chuckle, allowing the whitelighter to move towards her without impediment. "Do a little magic, spill a little blood and look who's playing it fast and loose with the F-bombs."

"It's not funny!" He ground out, angrily.

"I wholly disagree." 

He wondered when this 'protector' lark was ever going to get any easier. A moment on this train of thought, however, had made him realize that this debate would bring nothing but a handful of migraines and a distraction from actually doing his job. Hesitantly, he reached out for her when he reached her side. With a hand on her shoulder, he guided her just a few steps away to the small dining room table and had her sink into one of the dark mahogany chairs. "How you worked out that slicing yourself up like a ham was an appropriate course of action, in your head, I'll never know." He brought her hand up on the table, ignoring the queasy feeling in his stomach as he watched blood pool under her arm and covered it with his own. Concentrating, he felt the tingly energy within him move from his body into hers for a few seconds before it flickered out. He tried again, the brilliant white light stitching tissue together for another few seconds before flickering out, once more. 

The young woman had the good sense to look sheepish as he busied himself with stretching his hand, almost as if trying to rid himself of some magical cramp. "OK, so maybe you are a white lighter. You're definitely sketchy, though. _Maybe it's the accent?_ "�  
Harry resisted the urge to throttle her before he rolled his eyes. "Duly noted." With a deep breath, he managed to settle his thundering heart, which was not aiding in his quest to get the injury under control. "That was your big plan? What if I had been a demon and you bled out on my kitchen floor?" In lieu of response, the young woman dug through her pockets and deposited a vial of the same green paste she had used on his face on the table. "You are ridiculously foolhardy." The worst of the cut was now sealed, but his growing frustration was doing him little favors in the way of finishing the job.

"Duly noted," she retorted in a mocking tone. "I'm sorry," she said after a beat of silence, sounding sincere. "Are you OK?"

Tensing his jaw, he glanced up at her concerned expression. Her eyes had long stopped their challenging stares and had sought refuge in the well-worn wood of the table. "I told you my powers weren't doing very well, and yet you still hacked through your arm like a maniac."

"What happened?"

He didn't answer for a long time, to the point Alex doubted he had heard her question, if it had not been for the pointed look he shot her the second it had left her mouth. "I was held for a week in Tartarus."

Startled, she raised her eyebrows in shock. "Jeez, what did you do?"

"I didn't _do_ anything. I was collateral damage. It's a long story."

"Scorpions. That's what you meant, wasn't it?" Curiosity was starting to get the best of her, getting her to perk up considerably, though Harry was now so exhausted he couldn't even bother to deny the accusation. "I can help! I know a potion. It's a little obscure, and it's not instantaneous, but it should help you recover. I think I have all the ingredients for it here," she rambled, poising to get out of her seat before Harry had pulled her by the straps of her overalls and sat her back down. 

"Healing first."

With a groan, she slipped her arm from his grasp and took the vial still perched on the table, tipping its contents on the wound. "Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch. There, healed. Happy?" With a sarcastic smile, she was on her feet a second later, rifling through her backpack for several small jars of ingredients.

"I could've-" He began to protest, but was immediately cut off. 

"You're too tired, Harry," she said, gently, setting a cast-iron pot on the stove and lighting the fire under. With a well-practiced hand, she began tossing dried herbs and miscellaneous items into the pot with careful precision. "I'm sorry I put you through it. I never really considered the possibility that you might have been a whitelighter. I don't really know how this all works, if I'm honest." 

With a groan, he stood from the table, lumbering through the kitchen, which he thought resembled a crime scene, at the moment, to grab one of the kitchen towels from the rack and dampen it under the tap. Making quick work of it, he stopped Alex's feverish movement to give the back of her forearm a swipe, taking most of the blood off her hands and fingers before moving onto the table. "Who told you whitelighters were rarely men?" He asked, after he had finished, sinking in his seat once more to take a breather. 

"My whitelighter," she admitted, lamely.

"Call him here," he started, serious as death. "I have a few choice words about him letting his charges run willy-nilly into potentially dangerous situations." 

Alex snorted as she filled the pot with cold water and left it to boil. "Good luck with that, buddy. He's dead." The bitterness in her tone was not missed.

"Oh." His face reflected a world of concern, though he could tell by the way her hands fidgeted with her clothes that this was not yet the important part of her statement. Harry patiently waited for her to adjust the flame and returned to her seat at the table, quiet as a church mouse. 

"So am I," she added, though her gaze had taken to the ceiling. 

" _Oh_." It took a solid minute while the man could fully comprehend the weight of her words. "When you say _dead_ , what exactly do you mean? I _just_ cleaned up your blood from the table. There's still some on the floor."

The line of questioning had made her want to curl in on herself. She had put her feet up to the seat of the chair and she hugged her knees to her chest. "You bleed, too, don't you?"

"I suppose, but-"

"I can show you," she offered, extending her arm out over the table, wound covered in sticky green paste, but looking nearly healed. 

Harry's face crumpled into a severe frown. "That's a whitelighter gift, Alex."

"I'm aware." She beckoned him with her fingers and after a second of debate, Harry placed his hand in hers, a shiver running down his spine as the thick veil of a memory flowed into his brain.


	4. Killed in action

Harry found himself in an unfamiliar street, feeling like he was watching everything underwater, though the colors around him swirled more vividly than they did above. There were buildings at either side of him, cars parked along the sidewalks and beneath his feet there were cobblestones leading into the stack of Spanish-style, two level houses. A warm breeze wafted the smell of fresh laundry and fragrant cooking, and made all his skin feel like it was wrapped in a warm blanket. He was most definitely _not_ in Hilltowne, but rather wherever Alex had lived, previously. There was little movement, save for a boy marching down the street to retrieve a basketball that had wandered into the gutter after it bounced off the backboard of an old hoop. Another person was thundering along the sidewalk towards him with ardent purpose. It was the voice that he recognized first.

"For the millionth time, I told you not to play in the street when no one's around to watch you, Marcus!" Alex looked different, her hair long and curly, mostly constrained to a half-hearted bun on the top of her head. She was considerably tanner, a detail Harry could quickly pick up in her shorts and t-shirt getup. It took a superhuman effort not to roll his eyes. Honestly, she dressed like a toddler half the time and it had definitely not improved since her arrival in Michigan. However, he had to smile at the way she playfully chased the eight year-old boy she had just scolded and escorted him to the sidewalk. 

The boy rolled his bright blue eyes, sighing dramatically in the way children are wont to do. "Ally, if my ball goes in the street I need to get it back!" The child argued, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world and she was being unreasonable. 

Smiling, she got down on one knee to level with the child, rustling his muddy brown hair. "Sweets, I just don't want you getting hurt by someone whizzing by in a bike or a car because you were busy getting your ball and no one was watching you." The boy still did not seem satisfied with the answer. "Tell you what, if your ball does roll into the street, you find the nearest patch flowers on the grass and tell them to go get me. I will get your ball for you. Deal?"

"Ally, flowers don't talk. Stop being weird."

Harry found himself chuckling alongside Alex, who found it secretly hilarious. "I promise you, bud. Don't make me rat you out to your mom, OK?"

Marcus looked like he wanted to argue and tell her that flowers could not, and did not, convey messages, but he had known her long enough to know she was off her rocker. After a moment of thoughtful consideration, he nodded. "Whatever."

The scene swirled, making Harry considerably more nauseous than he had been a second prior. They were still in the same spot, but it was clearly a different day. Marcus stood dribbling his basketball on the cobbles and made a strong attempt at a basket, only to have it hit the backboard a little too strongly and catapult the other direction. The basketball rolled into the street and lodged itself in the narrow gutter, as it did almost every day. With a sigh, he poised himself to step foot onto the brick and mortar avenue before they hesitated mid-step. With a groan, Marcus stomped over to a patch of daisies growing in the cracks by the curb. Kneeling down, he lowered his face to the flowers and considered how weird he looked right at that moment. "Tell Ally that if she's not here in five minutes I'm gonna get the ball myself," he grumbled before sitting on the sidewalk to wait as he counted to 60, five times over. 

The boy had barely started his third counter when footsteps caught his attention. The bright yellow summer dress was difficult to ignore, but not more than the brilliant, proud smile that Alex was currently sporting. "Hey, little man! A little daisy told me you lost your ball. I'll get it in a jiffy." Without a backwards glance, she looked both ways and crossed the street, making quick work of collecting the basketball. Harry couldn't help but notice that on her back, she had a tattoo going along her spine that he could barely make out in a pastel purple. No, not quite purple. Before he could go down the rabbit hole of guessing what it was, she had returned. Her right hand offered the basketball, amused smirk tugging at her lips from the expression of utter awe on the boy's face. "Stay out of the street, OK?" This time the boy nodded, dutifully.

Once again, they swirled, back to the street at a time where the sun was considerably lower in the sky. Marcus sat cross-legged on the hot sidewalk, fingers tapping impatiently as he waited. He had been waiting for longer than his requisite five minutes, but at this point in life he knew better than to wander off into the street when he knew that Alex was due to appear any second. A group of teenagers had turned the corner, maybe fifteen or sixteen, and had a word among themselves before going over to the eight year-old. The scene immediately made Harry's spine tingle in the most unpleasant way. He could feel Alex's emotions much stronger here than in the other two, and he dreaded what exactly that meant.

"Hey, little Marcus. Why are you here all alone?" The leader of the boys had stopped in front of Marcus, blocking the remaining light of the sun. The younger child seemed to consider shrinking back or leaving, but seemed unable to do either.

Considering his words carefully, he replied. "I'm waiting for Ally. She said she'd go get my ball from the gutter."

The older boy looked over his shoulder, seeing where the orange orb lay lodged between the street and the grate. "Why don't you get it yourself? What are you, scared?" He goaded, shoving the kid progressively harder until he lost his balance and flailed sideways. "Are you too chicken to get it yourself?"

"Ally said not to play in the street," Marcus said, resolute, trying to squirm away from the gang of older kids and retreat to safety. The hot concrete hurt his palms and bare knees, so he tried to gather himself to his feet. "Go away!"

"Go away!" Another of the teens mocked, pushing him down once more, much to the entertainment of the gang. Harry had to remind himself that he could not do anything to change this scenario and found himself stepping backwards whenever he felt the urge to throw a punch. "Ally can shove it. I think what you really want is to be on the street. Maybe we should help." They were all circling him now. 

"Leave me alone!" Marcus shrieked. He frantically crawled on his hands and knees, ignoring the burning sear, to a patch of dandelions. "Please, tell Ally to hurry! Hurry!" The sound of his pleads were covered by the taunts of the older boys as they grabbed onto the back of his shirt and tossed him into the road, all laughing as they waited for him crawl back before they repeated the process. Each time the boy slid a little longer into the road and his sides got a little more covered in road rash. The whitelighter found himself yelling for them to stop, despite the sound being lost to the ether. 

Alex skidded around the corner, sweating and panting from having run the whole way there. She looked worried, and she was right to be, as she watched a sobbing Marcus, hands, knees and sides all scraped, red, and full of gravel, crawl back to the safety of the sidewalk before another boy grabbed his now tattered shirt and propelled him to the street, where he rolled and slid most of the way. 

"Hey, assholes! Leave him alone! Do you think that's fucking funny!?" 

Careless of whether she would hurt the teenagers, she pushed and shoved her way through, kicking and punching anything and anyone that tried to pull her back and away from Marcus. She was barely older than all those boys, but Harry would've thought that they'd at least feign some sort of respect for a lady and an elder. He saw no such respect, just a sadistic need to hurt the child and laughter. The only thing he could concentrate on was the mournful howling of Marcus' cries, desperate at being so close to help, yet so far away. 

Harry felt it in his soul before it even happened. "Wait, no! _Marcus!_ " 

The child had been thrown back onto the road just as a delivery van had turned the tight corner of the cobbled street. Alex had broken loose from the arms that had restrained her and dashed into the street, just in time to bring the boy to his feet, clutch him protectively to her chest and turn him away from the sound of screeching wheels. The memory went into a cacophonous chaos enveloped in thick black layering that made Harry feel claustrophobic. When the image returned, it was not a welcome visage.

There was blood in the street, around them both and it looked like every major bone in the body had been cracked and bent through the impact and the subsequent landing after they flew fifteen feet down the street. Through the haze of pain and disorientation, Alex managed to take a painful breath. The gang of teenagers and the van that hit them were nowhere to be found. The cowards were long gone and had left the woman and child to die like animals in the street. Seeing was a struggle, breathing was a struggle... _living_ was a struggle. Every ragged, strangled, wheezing breath made Harry ache in ways he could not conceive a human could ache. A few feet away, Marcus lay on the asphalt, unmoving, scratches all over his body and a vacant expression in his open eyes. _Shit._

"No no no!" Alex's voice, though gurgled and almost unrecognizable was the most anguished sound he could remember. His own memories from Tartarus about losing his son sounded quaint and painted in comparison. Digging into some primitive, unbridled energy, she managed to drag herself on broken arms and legs the three or four feet they lay separated. Hesitantly, her hand hovered above his chest, too scared to see if there was still a pulse, a beat, a breath. "God, please. Come on, Sweets. Please wake up. I'm begging you." 

The second she put her hands on his body, her hands tingled and a blinding white light had burst out of her palms. Harry couldn't tell if he had stopped breathing at some point or if he had been panting the whole time, but the scene had gripped his chest in a vice and he couldn't control it. Bit by bit the boy got mended, and as a crashing climax to this orchestral masterpiece, he gasped a long breath and blinked. He watched Alex, the woman who cleaned his apartment and that he just discovered was a witch, bring a boy back from death without a spell or summoning a demon. None of that mattered, though, as he watched Marcus, trembling and crying once more, take a good look at Alex before breaking into sobs again. 

"Ally!"

"Babe, I need you to go home now, please." The boy shook his head, tears flying as he resisted the order. "I'm not going to tell you again, Marcus. Go home. Don't worry about me." 

"But-"

"Go!" With tears in her eyes, what felt like an elephant on her chest, and every part of her body burning, she watched her favorite neighbor run up to the sidewalk and sprint home, not daring to stop and stare behind him. The familiar tug of teleportation churned his stomach as her vision faded. Then, Harry and Alex were back at his kitchen.


	5. Friendly fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the last of the heavier/darker chapters. We will return to our regularly scheduled fluff and giggles on the next one. Make sure to leave a comment!

Harry Greenwood recoiled from Alex's touch, feeling as though the connection was still searing at his insides and causing the marks from his adventure in the underworld pulse uncomfortably. He couldn't say he had ever seen the vacant stare currently invading his company's countenance, before. The pleasant smile she had nailed onto her lips was nothing more than window dressing, he realized. The quiet sniffle brought him back to the dining room table. Alex looked far more concerned with appearing as if she wasn't wiping tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. Ever the gentleman, he produced a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his shirt and offered it across the table. 

With a half smile, she closed her fingers around the ivory, monogrammed square of fabric. "Don't you think you should have a go with it first?"

Harry frowned, confused. When he raised his fingers to his cheek he saw them come away wet with tears. "A lady always takes priority," he assured, quietly. There was no witty comment in return. "What happened after?"

Alex shrugged, unsure of whether him knowing everything that had happened to her was in any way beneficial. "I came to in an alleyway. I think it was Wales, now that I think of it." His amused smirk made her chuckle, despite herself. "I kept orbing places without meaning to. I didn't know what I was supposed to do, I didn't have my whitelighter to help. I wandered for a long time before I decided I might as well go ahead with the plans I had already made. So, I moved to Michigan, got my degree, got a job."

"What about the Elders? Didn't they come to your aid?" He queried, genuinely confused.

She snorted. "Nope," she replied bluntly. 

"Because…," he prompted her to continue. 

"They killed my whitelighter, Greenwood." Her tone was much brasher than she intended it to, and with a frustrated sigh she tried to readjust her attitude. "I don't have a good relationship with the Elders. They didn't want me around when I was alive, why would they come to my aid when I was dead?" 

As a liaison for the Elders, Harry could sense this was the moment where he should try to diffuse the tension. "I'm sure that's not-"

"He was protecting me and one of your precious Elders struck him down," she replied, heatedly, cheeks flushing in anger. " _Robert, you know we just can't have her around. It's too much of a risk. There's no way I can let her walk out of here,_ " she added, changing her voice in imitation. Harry thought the tone and cadence sounded far too familiar for his liking. 

Closing his eyes, he steeled himself to ask the question he didn't dare utter. "Do you know the Elder that killed your whitelighter?"

There was a long stretch of silence. It went on for what felt like eons, to the point Harry was unsure if Alex was awake or even present in the kitchen, anymore. "I don't think I should tell you."

"Why?"

"Because it's not your burden, and your job is far too important for you to be trying to play both teams. Regardless of my circumstances or what my deal is with the Elders, I can't get you involved." 

He sighed, knowing that she was right in her judgement, but still had the gnawing trickle of doubt inside him; doubt that had been plaguing him for weeks now. The Charmed ones were already iffy about the Elders. He didn't need another person who was distrustful about them under his care. Even then, what could he do? It wasn't as if he could leave her to find her own fate in these tumultuous times for magic-kind. Then again, if he, too, turned away from the magical laws, who would protect all of them. It seemed that he was at Check in a progressively difficult game of chess. Still, whitelighter gifts didn't just manifest out of thin air. There were two ways of acquiring them: being born with them, or being bestowed with them by an Elder. It would seem that Alex was neither, or she was not privy to important information about her own life. "Have you always been able to use whitelighter gifts?"

Alex shook her head in the negative, hair falling into her eyes which she dismissively brushed back, regardless of how it fell. She figured that once someone had witnessed her death, the rest of the details seemed trite. "I was an excellent gardener, but that was about it."

"I don't understand. There is such ceremony around these situations that, in my mind, it seems ludicrous that you should have been so overlooked," he explained, his face contorting in deep thought. "Then again, you shouldn't be able to remember your past life. Unless…"

"Unless what?"

He waved away her curiosity. "It's a far-fetched idea," he settled, though it was clear from his countenance that it was one that he thought likely. Springing out of his seat, he paced around the clean section of the kitchen floor for several minutes, closed right hand tapping an inconsistent rhythm on his lips as he talked to himself. In a huff, he stomped towards the cabinet and brought down to teacups, walking back to place one in front of Alex and one in the seat he just vacated. 

"No offense, boss, but not everything is fixed with tea," she remarked, a little bitterly as he walked back and reached to the very back of the cabinet with a groan. 

"Glad you think so, because we're having whisky," he riposted, withdrawing a dusty bottle of Macallan from its hiding spot and thumping it down on the table between them before he sunk back in his seat.

"That is a sixty year-old and incredibly expensive bottle of whisky. I'll pass," she announced, scrutinizing the label with widened eyes. 

He poured them both two hefty fingers, each, regardless. "I bought three bottles right when they were pouring them into the casks to age. At that point they're just sugary water. I paid twenty pounds a piece for them. Drink as you like," he commented with a chortle, a laissez-faire expression much unlike his usual uptight and regimented self. A tickle on his left hand surprised and startled Harry and his confounded gaze settled downward until he realized the source was the patch of mint on his kitchen table that served as a centerpiece, prickling his skin with cool tendrils. "That is _highly_ unsettling."

Alex hid her smile with the teacup as she lifted the porcelain to smell the smooth, amber liquid swirling inside. "Mint is very sensitive to emotions and you're a very tightly wound individual. I'm surprised it hasn't happened before; Pep is very handsy."

The Brit looked affronted, his eyes now glaring at the mint plant. "So _that_ is what all this is. Your little spy army."

The accusation, though not untrue, made her uncomfortable, and she squirmed in her seat before giving a half-hearted shrug. "At first, maybe. I put the peace lily in your bedroom, the bamboo in your study, the herbs all over the kitchen. It became painfully apparent that you don't spend much time here, and the time you do spend here is miserable," she explained. "Or, so I've been told," she clarified, when the brunt of his glaring was now directed at her. 

"Go on."

Now she felt like a child being scolded by an angry parents rather than an adult professional who simply had no idea what mess she had gotten herself into. Still, she pressed on after another round of fidgeting. "In any case, I figured no one really dislikes coming home to flowers and greenery, so…" she trailed off, staring over the side of the table at her dirt-covered sneakers with profound interest. "Except the lavender. I did genuinely part with some very special centaur-grown plants to keep scorpions away."

He was gob-smacked. "You truly got that from a centaur? I thought you were joking."

"It's easiest to hide the truth in plain sight. Hence, why you're a professor, why I'm a partially functioning adult, and why that satyr has a wine shop downtown," she retorted, sipping from her cup and allowing the warmth from the alcohol fill her body.

"You thought I was dangerous. Why would keep coming here? Especially when nothing ever came up? It doesn't make sense." Harry was now pinching the bridge of his nose as if a particularly powerful headache was on its way. "Have you no sense of self-preservation?"

"Correction. I thought you were a _demon_ , not dangerous. There's a difference. I know dozens of demons in Hilltowne who opened little mom and pop shops and don't get in anyone's way. They may deal sell you out to Satan for a cornchip, if worse got to worse, but they're generally harmless."

"You almost choked me with a plant and sliced your arm open," he contested deadpan. 

Alex laughed. "So, I'm not great under pressure. _Sue me._ " She sipped more of her whisky noting that it was making her increasingly more comfortable about sharing her life-long secrets with who was a virtual stranger. Putting the cup on the table, she traced her middle finger around the rim in thought. "You were nice to me, I guess. They didn't seem to mind you," she gestured at the plants, who all shivered briefly in an invisible wind. "And, let's be honest, I needed the extra income," she added, smiling wryly. "Not all of us get cushy jobs we're not qualified for, Professor."

Harry swigged from his cup with an air of daring. "How do you know I'm not qualified?"

Her eyes rolled. "You're the _straight, white, male_ head of _Women's_ studies."

"I've been to more female empowerment rallies than you've taken breaths. I've been running with feminists since before the war," he challenged, leaning forward in his seat. 

She snorted. "Oh, so what you're saying is you're _truly_ as ancient as you look?" 

Harry smiled, shaking his head at the young woman. "I will not dignify that with an answer, Alexandra." Draining his cup, he had risen from the table, itching to get something, anything done, and so went to the pantry closet to collect the mop and bucket that resided within to clean away the residue of blood in the otherwise spotless kitchen. It occurred to him that magic was chiefly responsible for his home being in such an impeccable state and he wanted to kick himself for not noticing earlier. The mop and bucket, however, spent little time in his hands. As if they had been taken straight out of Fantasia, the bucket filled itself with water and bleach and the mop dunked, rung and swept itself along the floor on its own, leaving him to stare at their movement before looking back at the table at a smirking Alex. "Personal gain, Alex."

"Is it a personal gain conflict if it's not my floor, though?" She countered his look of disapproval with a sigh. "I think I'll live if I get a wart because I didn't want you touching biohazardous material, Greenwood."

"Is this what you were taught? To play it fast and loose with the rules?" Occupying himself with rearranging the objects on the countertop, knowing full well the young woman would put it back the way she liked it the second he turned away, he spoke with a half-glance over his shoulder.

"If I had known you'd turn out this preachy, I would have chosen a different whitelighter to bare my soul to," she complained in jest in a blatant attempt to steer the conversation away from the heaviness that were the ancient laws. He did not seem to appreciate her attempt at humor, as his impassive face, half-shadowed by the cabinet, searched all the cracks in her façade. "I know every rule imposed by the Elders, but I also know that those rules aren't there to benefit beings living under them," she replied, stoic dignity beneath every word. 

His body tensed, at the response. He had heard that same phrase uttered many a time before, by several of his own charges, sometimes to their detriment. He could not stop to appreciate the cyclical simplicity of life, though it made him feel safe in the fact that this was just how his existence was going to be. "Is that your true belief or someone else's?"

"I'm not running with the S'arcana, if that's what you're worried about." Harry leaned against the counter and folded his arms over his blood-speckled Oxford to stare at her sternly. Alex, on the other hand, couldn't believe that this was the hill he had decided to die on, and groaned. "Seriously? My skills comprise of talking to plants and accurately teleporting with a 25% success rate. The S'arcana aren't exactly itching to recruit me," she added, deadpan, when he did not say anything.

"Do they not know your plants _talk back_?" His tone was uncharacteristically haughty.

The question took her aback, and with a hurt expression, she chugged what remained of her drink considering that, perhaps, she had made a mistake. "No. Three people in the world know that I can do that. One of them is dead, the other is probably so traumatized that he wouldn't remember, and the third has the worst mood swings I've ever encountered. If I wanted your secrets, I'd put truth serum into your baked beans and have you spill them at breakfast." 

Harry's whole body slumped, as if he had been frustrated, working at an impossible puzzle that only got more complicated as time went on. "Why? Why start now?"

Alex shrugged, running her fingertips over the mint, that rubbed its corrugated leaves over her fingers like a particularly affectionate cat. "Like I said, they don't mind you."


	6. Cease fire

The pair remained at an impasse even an hour later. The condo was clean, the potion Alex had prepared had already been sampled (and spit up, and resampled, after several threats) by Harry, and they sat conversing at the kitchen island, sharing some tea, as they often did when they were both present in the home. Through the quiet of their voices, the sound of the front door rattling on its hinges caused them both to start. Alex had been the first to abandon her seat and purposefully cornered herself by the dining table. Harry, already tightly wound and hyper-responsive, had found himself tensed in what he assumed was a menacing enough stance in a position before the door. With a great crash, the door slammed open, causing them both to jump. 

" _Harry!_ Harry, where are you?" A female voice called in a sure tone before muttering instructions to the otherwise, unseen, co-conspirators. "Hold on, we're coming to get you!" At once, the whitelighter rolled his eyes dramatically, dropping his defensive stance and groaning when he realized the voice that was leading this apparent rescue mission belonged to Mel. 

"Kitchen!" He called, shortly, ignoring the fact that Alex was currently staring at him like he lost his mind. Into the open doorway of the kitchen barrelled in three women, beautiful, fierce, and armed to the teeth with potions and a handful of handwritten spells designed to fell even the most fearsome of giants. "Good afternoon, ladies. Is there any _particular_ reason you decided to unnecessarily eviscerate my door?"

"Oh, my God! Harry, you're ok!" Macy sighed in relief, clutching her chest to quell her racing heart. "Wait, you're OK." Her usually calm and collected expression morphed from a look of relief to one of utter irritation. Harry had to admit it that her seamless transition was an impressive ability. "Why haven't you been answering your texts? We have been worried _sick_! You've been MIA for _hours_." Harry had the good sense to look sheepish, remembering that he had left his mobile in the study before the whole day had gone down the drain. His cheeks burnt pink, as he thought that this conversation could take place, literally, at _any time_ other than this one. 

In the corner, doing her best impression of a statue, Alex stood attempting to not draw any attention to herself. It had been a second too long so that it would be awkward for her to be noticed now. In her panic, however, she had dove for the mint plant just to have something familiar in her hands. Though it seemed like a good idea at the time, now it just sat awkwardly in her hands and her body shifting to accommodate it better caught the attention of the three girls, immediately ramping the mood back into panic mode.

Maggie's high-pitched squeal had prompted a screeching choir, all three of the sisters having been startled by their late notice of another being in the room and prompting them to take battle stations, once more. The botanist was unsure of whether to hide under the table and hope for the whole thing to blow over, make a run for the door, or take her chances orbing somewhere, anywhere, so long as it possessed a different area code. The abundance of options just meant she did none of the above, and, instead, stared wide-eyed and overwhelmed, fringe flopping into her eyes, at the sisters while trying to wordlessly urge the whitelighter to make the situation end. Harry wanted to groan. The woman had as much of an instinct of self-preservation as a deer crossing the road in the dead of night. He wondered where the stupidly brave spirit of a few hours earlier had gone, but conceded that it was probably for the best- his charges didn't really need another bad example. 

"We who fight for what is right, we banish this demon from the realm of light!" Maggie cried, rattling off a self-made spell and becoming increasingly distressed when a) she didn't immediately disappear, look angered or in pain; and b) Mel's time-stopping power didn't affect the other woman. 

Mel held out her hand to stop Macy from making any sudden movements, like slamming the woman into a wall, at her little sister's behest and scrutinized Alex with a confused yet curious expression. "Wait... didn't you TA me in Bio?"

Alex responded with a quiet, "Hey, Mel," detangling her right arm from around the flower pot just long enough to wave feebly. 

Macy, ever the logical scientist, quietly surveyed the scene before her. The condo, which the sisters had never visited previously, was immaculate. What was more, there didn't seem to be any sign of struggle or argument other than the splinters littering the floor from them blasting open the door. Though there was a sprinkle of blood on his shirt, Harry seemed generally unbothered by everything around him. In fact, he looked kind of bored, in that quaint, sarcastic British way he always did, as if waiting for children to finish a tantrum. The most telling piece of the puzzle, however, was that the whitelighter, expecting some sort of danger, had placed himself between the exploding door and this new person and had gladly done it with his back to her. Harry, who still checked every cup of tea Macy ever gives him, to make sure she hadn't tried to slip him truth serum again (not that it worked the first time). They looked comfortable togeth- 

"Oh. _Oh_. My. God." She began, looking honestly and truly horrified at her part in their rash and outlandish behavior. "Harry, we are _so_ sorry. We didn't realize you had a... _friend_... over." There was a lull of conversation between them before the other two sisters' eyes brightened with realization and widened like saucers while their cheeks turned crimson.

"Wait. No, no. I'm not... like _nooo_ ," Alex babbled, incoherent but rather insistently, gesturing between herself and Harry, looking mildly disgusted.

Harry twisted himself around slowly to stare at Alex, glaring daggers at the young woman. "I'll pretend that was not meant in offense, madam. Thank you." Turning back to the sisters, he gestured at the witch cowering in the back. "Ladies, this is Alexandra Figueroa, botanist and assistant professor in the Ecology department at Hilltowne."

"Housekeeper," she squeaked before coughing delicately to cover up the squeak. Alex smiled, awkwardly, cheersing with the mint in her hands in lack of anything better to do. "Also, housekeeper. Don't go into academia, kids," she added in a forced attempt at silliness, once she had found her voice once more. 

Harry had the mercy to cut in before she rambled herself into another dimension. "Yes, due to departmental budget cuts, she does moonlight as my housekeeper. And, no, Mel, I did not impose the position upon her. I found out she was a faculty member _after_ I replied to her services posting." Waving genially at his charges, he said, "Alex, this is Dr. Macy Vaughn, Miss Maggie Vera, and you already know Mel."

"He's our... uh... _uncle_ ," Maggie quickly fibbed, earning her a mumble of assent from her sisters. 

The confabulation made Alex smile, an action that Harry was quick to attempt to dismiss with a _don't humor them_ and a disapproving look. When she wouldn't stop the quiet giggling that seemed to have overtaken her initial shock, he prodded the witches, "I'll remind you that you could not freeze her."

"Oh, right."

"He's your whitelighter," Alex said, simply. " _Lucky_ you," she teased through a barely contained chuckle, which was met with another dark glare. The girls had since joined in the laughter at Harry's expense. 

Maggie's panic had since then melted into a huge grin, and with bright, excited eyes stared between the Harry and Alex. "So... Alex, was it?... So, are you actually like single, though? Because Har-"

" _Maggie!_ " Macy, Mel and Harry all scolded, in unison.

"Wow. That's... a lot." She fidgeted with her clothes before finding a reason to leave. "Well, would you look at my wrist, it's time for me to go," Alex excused, trying to skim by the group and make a beeline towards the door.

"Oh, no you don't," he muttered, grabbing the back of her overall straps and snatching the mint out of her hands, placing it on the table with a thud. "I would like you three to look through the Book of Shadows for information about floramancers, please. See if there is anything in particular that might make them different from other witches."

"What's a floramancer?" Mel asked, settling into one of the stools at the island, propping her face up on her elbow. 

"That," Harry gestured at Alex, who glared at him. 

" _That_ has a name, sir!"

"And I'll use it when _it_ has stopped acting like a child." He ignored her quiet snickering, opting for focusing his energies on the Charmed ones and their equally amused expressions. "Was there anything else you needed? Cup of tea? Cheese toastie?"

"No, you look like you have your hands full, Harry. We'll see you tomorrow," Macy assured, trying to reign in her sisters and looking a little like she was herding cats into the front hall. "Sorry about the door. We'll leave you to it…to whatever you were doing… to talking. We'll just leave," she amended, nearly bursting into laughter once more before she shoved her sisters and herself out the front door. 

Harry let out a long breath, hand on hips and his head tilting back as he stared at the ceiling as if it was hiding the secrets of the universe. 

"Are you OK?" Alex's voice was the softest he'd ever heard it.

He remained unchanged in position. "You don't have to keep asking that."

"I don't know about that. You seem to be getting progressively more stressed, so it seems like the only real thing I can contribute," she replied, still as gentle as before. "Unless you're thinking of ways on how to assign detention to another faculty member, in which case, I'd say detention didn't stop me before."

"No, I'm just trying to estimate how many ulcers I'll develop if I go ahead with my serving as your self-appointed whitelighter," he replied, in a serious tone, though he was glancing at her out of the corner of his eyes and repressing a smirk.

"I've been on my own for a decade, bud. It's fine, I swear," she said in reassurance. 

He righted himself, offering the woman a warm smile. "You are right. Now, imagine how fantastic it will be to live the next few with friends."

Alex rolled her eyes, sighing dramatically, even though she looked clearly pleased with his turn of phrase. "Can I _go_ now?"

"Safe trip home, Alexandra," he said, stepping aside and gesturing her a clear path. He watched as she quietly padded to the door, pulling on her sneakers and slinging her backpack over her shoulder. 

She had almost completely closed the door behind her before she backtracked several steps. "Good night, I guess."

"Good _evening_ ," he corrected, eyes bright with mirth at the fact that she looked like she wanted to punch him. With a groan and a roll of her eyes, she slammed the door behind her.


	7. Barracks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a short, very fluffy chapter, just because I can and the world needs more fluffy things.

Doing busy work for the girls, helped. And, so did the potion he was now regularly taking. His powers were coming back to him in a more reliable fashion. The only thing time could not heal, it seemed, was his blasted nightmares. He had it down to a science, though, waking himself up before they got too bad and finding himself back in his bedroom rather than the raging pits of Tartarus or a reality he no longer remembered where he was a no-gooder trying to provide for a sick son. Still, the dreams clung to him like a second skin, quietly taunting that he was in no way, shape or form, worthy of his title, of his charges, of his life. 

Pushing the white cotton sheets down to his waist, he sat up against the ornate wooden headboard of his bed. The cool touch on the bare skin of his torso brought him a welcome distraction from his otherwise tumultuous thoughts, and allowed him just long enough to focus on the room around him. Everything was as it should; nothing out of place, nothing broken, nothing replaced by the hive of demonic wasps here to sting him for all eternity. All in all, he could start to count his blessings and call it a night, if it weren't by the traitorous pitter-patter of his heart, which raced just a little bit faster whenever he closed his eyes. 

"For. _Fuck's_. Sake," he muttered to himself, slapping himself across the face in an effort to get a grip. He glanced to his right where movement on his nightstand had caught his attention. His watch sat beside the alarm clock and his charging mobile, all of them resting under the dark shadow cast by the moon over the peace lily on the same table. "You can stop looking at me like that," he grunted, feeling foolish for even thinking that this was a problem he had to worry about. Instead, he opted for taking measured breaths and trying a bit of meditation to still his soul back into slumber. He had gotten a good thirty seconds of blessed silence from his thoughts when the sound of his mobile buzzing caught his attention. He clicked the call button without even looking who the remittent even was. "Yes?," he sighed.

There was a snicker on the other end of the line which immediately drew a groan from his lips. "Well, hello to you, too, _Grouchy_."

"It's three in the morning, Alex. I was asleep," he ground out, keeping his tone even through the lie. 

She hummed. "No, you weren't."

Harry muted his cell, momentarily. "Snitch," he hissed at the plant on his bedside with a glare. 

"Don't harass the plants, Greenwood," Alex called from the other side of the phone. "Didn't know the only green you were in favor of was jealousy."

He unmuted the call with a roll of his eyes. "Why would I be jealous of you?"

"I don't know. Why do you dance to 'Twist and Shout' in your underwear on Saturday mornings?"

The whitelighter sat, mouth agape for a few seconds while his brain caught up with him again. "The plants are all going in the bin in the morning." He tried to ignore the fits of laughter coming down the line for the better part of a minute before she managed to reign herself in. "Is there anything you need, Alexandra?"

"Jeez, full name. I didn't know I would get in trouble for being woken up by _your_ friend." Harry had no response as he shot a sidelong glance at the plant, anger fleeting yet still reluctant to accept the fact that his every move was being watched (and probably retold) by various members of the vegetable kingdom. "Are you OK, Harry?"

"Yes, of course. Absolutely no reason for concern."

"Right." Harry listened to the silence on the other side of the line, wondering if this was the moment he hung up or not. "Are English strawberries really all that better than American strawberries?"

The man couldn't help but laugh, taking a moment to settle himself in before beginning his rant. "Without a shadow of a doubt, the English strawberry will destroy your flavorless clone in every single category of comparison."

Alex scoffed, though he could detect the hint of a laugh behind it. "A strawberry is a strawberry is a strawberry."

"Oh, dear. I fear that you have _never_ been more incorrect in your life."

"Hmmm... are we including the several months where I thought you were a demon, or…?" She let the question linger in the air as a comedic point.

Harry let out a chuckle before he could control himself. "Too soon, Alex."

"Got it. It just seemed like that joke was more or less as ludicrous as your claims about your foreign berries."

"Technically," he began, and could practically _hear_ Alex rolling her eyes at the other side, "strawberries aren't berries, they're an-"

"I'm a fucking _botanist_ , Greenwood," she interrupted.

"-accessory fruit, but you already knew that; you're a botanist. For a brief moment, I forgot. I apologize," he finished, stifling a yawn with his hand and pulling the bedsheets further up his form. They remained in comfortable silence for a few minutes before the whitelighter relented on maintaining his pride. "You didn't have to, you know."

"I know, Har, but that bullshit _ragweed_ on your bedside would never let me get another wink if I just let you stew on your own for another night," she grumbled, sounding quite sleepy herself. 

He laughed, rolling his eyes and sharing what he supposed was a knowing look with the plant on his bedside. "Ever the lady, Alexandra."

"I could say so much worse, and you know it, _Harold_ ," she countered with a huff.

He rolled his eyes, making a mocking jest, well aware that she could not see it and, therefore, could not retaliate in kind. "Not my actual name, but do as you like."

"It _has_ to be," she argued. "An annoyingly long name; something ridiculous, like Christopher Harold Dean Greenwood, the third. You go by _Harry_ because it makes you accessible to us plebes." Harry joined in on her laughter, shaking his head in disbelief at her antics. This joking, even if it was at his own expense, was a good way to clear his mind that didn't involve staring at the blank wall for a few hours until everything dissolved into nothingness.

"Don't the plebes have class in the morning?" He asked, glancing at the clock to see that nearly an hour and a half had flashed by, unbeknownst to them. "Maybe if you devoted your efforts on teaching rather than annoying me, you could climb the social ranks."

" _Ugh_ , Harry, jeez. Will you _shut up_ , already? I have to teach in the morning, you know," she groaned, dramatically, flipping the script and pulling one last laugh out of him. "Go to bed, loser."

With a long sigh, smirk on his face, he gently said, "Have a pleasant rest of night, Alex."

"Good night, Harry. I'll catch you later." 

He muttered a farewell down the receiver and placed his mobile on the bedside table and taking stock of the peace lily. "Goodnight to you, as well, I suppose," he said, awkwardly before laying down on the pillow, astounded by how exhausted he suddenly felt.


	8. Gum shoes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapter of a sequence. More people, more problems, but more giggles and information!

The Vera-Vaughn household was bright and bustling despite the chilly afternoon air. The witchy siblings, Macy, Mel, and Maggie, had decided that their deep-dive into the several obscure texts, left in the attic by their mother, might as well be turned into a friendly get-together. Originally, the affair was going to be an intense study-session aided with pizza. The whitelighter, of course, had been mortally offended that they were going to be having anything as mundane as bad Michigan pizza when he could just as easily prepare meals and snacks for their activities. Maggie, on the other hand, never one to miss an opportunity, monopolized on Harry's intervention, in order to scale up the event to semi-formal party and literature review. No one had actually _agreed_ to the idea, yet they all still found themselves dressed to the nines, nose-deep in books, while the whitelighter feverishly worked in the kitchen.

Quiet steps reached Harry's ears, and with a cursory glance over his shoulder, he saw silhouette of a pixie cut against the bright light of the afternoon rays. Alex shuffled into the kitchen, her emerald swing cocktail dress swirling around her as she regularly turned to check that the coast was clear. Dropping both hands onto the kitchen counter with a thud that caught his attention, she gave him a pleading look. "Har, give me a job; any job. Just keep me somewhere Maggie isn't." 

Harry knew better than to laugh outright at the young woman, though he was not above a cheeky smirk in her direction, enjoying the sensation of her discomfort before saying anything. He was wondering how long it would take before the youngest Vera's insistence on wanting to know more about the young professor would turn into the botanist trying to avoid her altogether, in lieu of letting her, more oft than not, poisonous tongue resolve the issue. He very quickly decided it was better not to get involved and to let the girls acclimate to each other at their own pace. It was, so far, hilarious. "Problem?" He asked briefly, still running around the spacious kitchen in his freshly pressed oxford, trousers, and waistcoat as he took a roast out of the oven, giving off the impression he was only half-paying attention to whatever dilemma she had. 

"Empaths are too intense for me, bud. She keeps asking me _very_ direct questions and trying to hold my hand to read my thoughts, when she does," she whispered, tapping her foot impatiently, incensed by the fact that a full minute had gone by and he had said nothing. " _Harry!_ " The Brit shrugged, raising his hands in surrender, not knowing what to tell her, before turning back to the stove to whisk at a gravy that was preparing on a gentle simmer in the roasting pan. The sound of heels clicking on the stairs made Alex redouble her efforts, this time by smacking him on the shoulder. 

"Alex, come on! We were making progress!" Maggie complained, barreling into the kitchen, her sequined midnight blue dress looking a bit out of place in the afternoon. 

Alex glared at Harry, who pointedly stared at the pan before him, before turning to the youngest sister with a smile. "Right. Just wanted to check on Harry. He had a job for me," she fibbed, giving the Charmed ones' whitelighter a look that said that she would cause him bodily harm if he were to disagree. 

He decided that he might as well throw her a bone, and proceeded to roll his eyes at the tiled backsplash dug into his pocket and retrieved his car keys. "Yes. Would you mind grabbing the serving platters I left on the passenger seat?" He was well-aware that there were no platters in his car. He knew, however, that Alex would be clever enough to teleport to his condo, scour his cabinets for a pair and enjoy the few minutes of blessed silence that the expedition would buy her. Now grinning, Alex skimmed past Maggie before practically skipping out the door. 

Maggie seemed less than bothered, however, beaming brightly as the botanist ran past before setting her sights on Harry. " _Just wanted to check on Harry._ I didn't know-"

"Please, don't finish that thought, Maggie," he commented, offhandedly, pouring a pudding batter into a ceramic mold and carefully placing it inside another pot to steam.

Maggie pouted, looking a little deflated. "Must you people always kill my joy?" With a groan and a roll of her eyes she made to turn around and abandon the conversation.

A whistle caught her attention, and pulling her gaze upwards she saw the whitelighter wipe his hands on a kitchen towel beckon her with his right hand. She returned to her spot, bracing herself for the sermon. "We talked about the mind-reading, Maggie."

"I just wanted-"

That same hand raised to silence her. "Maggie, I know that you're curious about our new magical friend. I know that all you've met so far are demons and witches associated with either the Elders or the S'arcana and the concept of an independent witch is terribly interesting. I understand all this, but Alexandra has secrets that… well, if she has not personally disclosed them to you, then it is not your place to extract them by chasing her around a room."

The young witch sighed dramatically, using the puppy-dog stare he knew so well, but had yet to work to cloud his opinion. "Look, I'm sorry, but we come to rescue you after a whole day of being AWOL and lo' and behold, you're _fine_ and cozily shacked up-"

He looked at her as if she was being ludicrous. "Shacked up is very much an incorrect term."

"-with a woman who apparently has keys to your condo? Which you've known for _months_? And didn't _tell me_?!?"

"That I had a _housekeeper_?" He asked, carefully, his brow furrowed. 

Her look of incredulity took him aback. "That you had a friend!"

Harry laughed, tilting the whole roasting pan to pour the gravy into a cheesecloth-covered sieve. "Maggie, Alex thinks I'm an idiot on the best of days and, for a brief stint, thought I was a demon. I don't think we qualify as friends."

She snorted, giving him a look of disbelief. "So does Mel and you've literally gone to Hell for her! Thinking that you're an idiot doesn't preclude anyone from being your friend." 

He placed a lid over the gravy to keep it warm. "You are family. It's different, and you know it." 

"Harry, honey," she started, smiling patronizingly at the man. "My sweet Meghan Markle, we both know that's just not true."

" _Back!_ " Alex called, twirling into the kitchen with a half smile. "Your platters, sir." Looking a lot more relax and amiable towards the youngest sister, she placed two ornate sterling silver platters he recognized as being his on the counter with surprising delicacy. 

"Thank you," he said in a tone that sounded like a _You're welcome_ in no uncertain manner. For a moment, he locked gaze with her, his brown eyes sliding from her to a reinvigorated, bubbly Maggie, and back. He watched her fidget in her spot, smoothing down the skirt of her dress with a flick of her wrists. With a dramatic sigh, she slumped her shoulders in defeat, before placing her right hand, palm up, in front of Maggie while she stared at the other side of the room. Maggie squealed in delight, clasping the woman's hand and practically vibrating with excitement. "Don't overstay your welcome, Maggie," he quipped, in a singsong tone a few minutes after.

" _Right_ , right. Just… well, you weren't entirely wrong about the opinion, though," she said, through laughter before relinquishing her grasp on Alex's hand and scuttling off back towards the attic.

Alex frowned, watching Maggie leave over her shoulder. "Not that I'm not surprised, but wrong _about_ …?"

He narrowed his eyes, shaking his head at the woman. "You are on the thinnest of ice." 

A peel of laughter escaped her and walked around the kitchen, taking stock on what needed to be done. "Can I make the Yorkshires?"

Harry hesitated, something he seldom did when it came to the kitchen. It wasn't that he was a control freak about what he cooked but… well, yes, he was. "I don't know if you're familiar with the delicate balance of-"

"Equal parts sifted flour, milk, and eggs. Pinch of salt. Pre-heat the tins with two tablespoons of oil and add the batter a quarter of the way up when it's so hot, it shimmers," she recited, earning a surprised look from the whitelighter. "I follow a British YouTube cooking channel," she said by way of explanation before grabbing the muffin tins that he was holding limply in surprise. "Close your trap. You'll catch flies." Watching her in disbelief for a few seconds, he decided the best use of his time (and to save face) was to go upstairs and call the girls down to set the table and bring their research for dinner.


	9. Message redacted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two of the sequential chapters. Science is sexy. Alex probably needs some therapy. Maggie is the cutest. human. ever.

Setting the table for dinner was a spectacle that had Alex staring wide-eyed around the room, just like the first time she had ever seen her grandmother cast a spell. Sliding her chair towards the table in her elegant burgundy dress, Macy made the flatware and cutlery traverse the air from the cabinets, all the way to their respective places on the table. She was able to hold a conversation with Maggie while it was happening, giving her an unspoken coolness that Alex only dared to dream of. Mel, in the meantime, was gliding around the table filling glasses of wine in her sleek black pantsuit, stopping time to readjust the glasses whenever she was about to spill. Sitting with her legs crisscrossed on her seat, Harry thought Alex looked a bit like a child who had been forced to attend a dinner party with her parents. 

Coming around behind her, having just placed the last of the food on the table, he tapped her shoulder, his fingers lightly guiding her shoulders back. "Mind your manners," he teased, tickled by the fact she was glaring at his intrusion.

"Watch the hands, buddy. You aren't Peppermint," she retorted, though she corrected her position, regardless, sitting up straight and crossing her legs under the table. "How come they get cool powers and I get stuck with _occasionally chats with cilantro_?"

"Maybe because after the chat, you brutally murder and feast on it and it throws off your karmic balance. How _do_ you live with yourself?" He replied, snarkily, though a smile eventually grew onto his face. 

Her mouth flapped open and closed several times before she could find something appropriate to fire back with. She settled on, "You're an awful person, Greenwood," ignoring the chorus of sniggers around them. 

"So, Alex, how much do you already know about your gifts? Because we actually found a good amount of information about floramancers-" Macy remarked, scooping roast potatoes onto her plate and passing them down the table. 

Harry interrupted the conversation, his hands busy with piling roast on everyone's plate, except for Maggie's. "Ladies, can we please pause this until we've, at least, had our main? You've been at it for hours," 

Mel made a sound of agreement. "Or, at the very least, let her down a glass of wine or three before we start getting real up in here." 

Alex laughed. "I don't ever really have more than the one drink." The response earned her some odd stares from the other table occupants, but she shrugged them off. "One of my foster families drank a lot. They were kind of awful."

The room went deathly quiet, the sisters looking up from their dinners at each other before comically turning to their whitelighter in perfect synchronization, demanding answers. " _I_ didn't know," he defended, swigging from his own glass to hide the blush rising to his cheeks. Maybe he should make an effort to inquire just a bit more about her life.

"It's fine. My parents just died when I was young and was bumped around a couple of foster homes until my grandmother got custody." Alex assured, offering a smile around the table to quell the guilty looks in all of their faces. "Guys, I'm not the only person with dead parents in the world… or even this room, so… chill?"

"How'd they die?"

"Maggie!" Came the chorus, immediately after, and the younger sister defended herself by quoting Alex saying it was fine. 

"It's OK, really." She speared a glazed carrot at the end of her fork and took a bite before responding, though she felt a bit like a tropical fish in a tank. "Well, I'm not entirely sure, but the official story was that they were hit by a car crossing a dark road. Grandma thought that was horseshit, though."

There was a groan at the head of the table, though Harry did not make any comment. The green-eyed stare lingered on his pensive face for a bit longer than necessary for it to be just a casual glance, but returned it to her plate as she chased a pea around her potatoes. "You know I swear like a sailor, boss. Playing dress-up isn't changing that."

Macy and Mel shared a look across the table, the elder shifting uncomfortably and pushing food around her plate while she stared worriedly at space. "Did you grandmother ever say _why_ she didn't believe that version of events?"

Alex shook her head. "No, but she never let me forget that she didn't believe it," she replied,, before she narrowed her sights on the telekinetic witch. "Why?" There were more looks across tables and loaded silence. Everyone was averting their gaze and concentrating far too hard on their meals, making her feel seemingly invisible. "Yeah, this isn't giving me elementary school flashbacks or anything," she muttered to herself. "You can't ask a leading question and then not lead me anywhere."

"Well, there's good news and slightly more worrisome news," Macy began, pushing her plate away and folding her hands on the table in a very business-like manner. "We know about your powers and that was the whole point of today, wasn't it?"

"I thought today was about Greenwood's inability to identify witches under his employ, and subsequently leave me alone," the botanist replied, deadpan, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of Yorkshire pudding. 

Mel nearly choked on her sip of wine. Tilting towards the man, she whispered, "Harry, please, can we keep her?"

"If she manages to survive the night without my strangling her, sure," he replied, equally as sarcastic, standing to collect plates and bring out dessert. 

Despite the acidic tone, Alex smiled. Annoying the hell out of Harry Greenwood was far too easy and far too much fun for it to be a legal activity. "Perhaps, you should deliver your findings before Professor Grouchypants decides to cut my misery short."

"I made presentation and it's set up in the living room! We can take dessert!" Macy cut in, excitedly, already springing out of her seat ahead of the others and rushing to the living room, leaving the plant witch to stare apprehensively at the doorway which she had just escaped through.

"You get used to it," Mel replied with an easy smile, understanding the other's sentiment to a tee. "Let's go before she starts without us."

Harry passed around slices of steamed pudding to the captive audience, carefully pouring cream atop each before settling down on the couch beside an antsy Alex. Though she seemed calm and collected, the insistent tapping of her forefinger on the emerald fabric-draped expanse of her thigh was a clear sign of jitters. "Your pudding will get cold." The tapping stopped, Alex instead wringing her hands together before managing to still her nerves enough to grab the spoon on the side of the small plate. "Sugar helps. Promise." He nodded towards the sponge until she had taken a mouthful and sat chewing thoughtfully.

Smoothing down her dress and taking up a professional demeanor, the eldest sister turned to her audience, clicker in hand. "You guys ready?" Macy asked, bright-eyed, standing in front of the bedsheet serving as the makeshift projection screen. The powerpoint presentation began with a dissection of the word _floramancer_ , and Harry feared that they were there for the long haul on this one, but they all nodded, regardless. "Floramancers are witches that have an innate power over the world's plant kingdom, or flora. Depending on their skill, their powers can range from simply understanding the needs of plants to better serve them to being able to conjure them, on the spot. Though, I'm not sure how useful that would be."

"I've never felt the need to create a tomato plant, but I guess I'll let you know if the whim ever arises," Alex offered, shrugging. 

"That's what I thought. Now, most floramancers are more adept at caring for plants and communicating with them. They can even relay messages across vast distances, since roots and pheromones are basically one _giant_ wifi network." Harry glanced sidelong at Alex, who had turned the corner of her lip up before catching his eye for a brief second. "But, you probably already know all this," Macy conceded, noting in her excitement that the information was probably not new to someone who _was_ a floramancer. "There aren't many of these witches in existence. In fact, it's one of the rarest gifts, but there is a reason for that." Macy leaned against a side table, trying to straighten the information in her head before clicking to the next slide. "You see, floramancy is a mitochondrially-linked genetic trait." 

Alex sat forward, knotting her brow. "So, I got it from my mom?" 

"Well, yes. You need the genetic coding from your mother, but in order for it to be expressed, you need an activator gene from your father." 

Chewing on her bottom lip seemed to be the best way for the young professor to review her, admittedly rusty, non-vegetable genetics knowledge. "Like an X-linked disease? Isn't that more likely to happen in men than women? And even then, it's not a mitochondrial condition." 

"What are you two even saying at this point?" Maggie asked, her eyes glazed over at the schematic on the screen about the activation of maternal mitochondrial genes. 

Macy ignored the comment and forged ahead. "That would be the case, if what needed to happen was for you _not_ to have a repressor present. However, in flora- and really all of the romancing crafts- what is needed is an X-linked _activator_ , compatible with the gene copy in your mitochondrial DNA." 

Alex tilted her head side to side, considering the possibilities, before deciding there was nothing inherently _wrong_ with the theory. "So, I need a paternal X-gene. Does that mean that all floramancers are XX sex-chromosoned?" 

It looked like the Universe had lit up for Macy, as she, finally, had someone to talk about incredibly tedious genetics with. "Yes! It's ridiculously rare, and the genetic subtleties of the magical realm are not very well studied. However, when I was reading, the tomes all seemed to suggest that the only males with the ability to activate mitochondrially repressed genes are-" 

"Whitelighters," Harry interrupted, placing his half-eaten pudding on the coffee table and looking concerned. All the women turned towards him with surprise and expectation in their countenance. "The _Master Key_ , they used to call it. It's why witch-whitelighter relationships became forbidden. The children were forces to be reckoned with, untamable." 

Taking a deep breath, Alex dug the heels of her palms against her eye sockets, attempting to rub away the beginnings of some terrible migraine so she could make sense of the information without her brain exploding. "I know my family was magical, they never hid it," she explained, releasing her hands to rest on her lap. "Grandma taught me how to talk to the plants. If all this is right… that means my family has been witch-whitelighter for at least a hundred…" Her breathing became heavy, eyes darting back and forth as if piecing together a particularly difficult puzzle. "I need to sit down." 

"You…are." Mel's eyes widened, unsure of what would actually help her process this information. When they had discovered their mother had been a witch, it had been an insane couple of days. Then again, they hadn't tied her to a chair in the attic like Harry had. 

Alex looked down and sighed. "Oh, fuck." She seemed disappointed by the information, but not entirely upset. "I really hoped that would have helped." She glanced up at Macy. "How did they survive?" 

"Not well, it turns out. When the Elder council was formed, families were shunned, sent to distant lands separated from each other, or even put spells on them to keep them from having children or finding each other." She shrugged, her curly hair bouncing with the action. "Evolutionarily, magic adapted so that the fathers and sons became the whitelighters for the family. They evolved independently of the Elder council and avoided them at all costs. There are currently no laws protecting the romancers." 

Harry nudged the woman beside him, who, starting to shake, had picked a spot on the wall to stare a hole into and muttered gently, "Alex, are you with us?" 

"Unfortunately," she whispered back. "Robert could hear my calls, too, like my dad did. How did that happen?" 

"Her former whitelighter," the man explained to the curious faces around them. The explanation was not going to make her feel any better than she currently did. He knew that. Hell, she probably suspected at what he was about to say next. For a second he considered stopping the conversation and picking it up later, but he could have bet his last breath that she would tear down every wall of that house if she didn't get a straight answer _now_. "It is possible to transfer your guardianship to another whitelighter, if you feel like your life is in peril and your charge is not old enough to survive on their own." 

"How long would that take?" Maggie asked, settling in beside Alex and laying a gentle hand on her hair. 

The Brit sighed. "Enough time for a mutual agreement. You can't just thrust a charge on someone." 

"So, they couldn't have possibly just gotten hit by a car, then." Alex decided, spitting the excuse out through clenched teeth. "They had to have known something or someone was coming for them, so they could… Grandma knew that when Rob was suddenly around just a couple of days before they died; that's why she never believed the police. He didn't get the chance to pass the responsibility because… it was too quick" Alex's color was draining from her face at a breakneck pace. "I think I'll take that second glass of wine, actually." 

"To hell with wine. I'll get you some whisky," Harry muttered, uncharacteristically worried, shuffling into the kitchen and returning a moment later with a tumbler full of amber liquid and a single ice cube. She gulped heavily from the glass, wincing as the liquid burned her throat, making for a welcome distraction from the pain in her heart. 

"What about the whitelighter side of the gene pool?" 

Mel sighed, giving Macy a break from delivering bad news. "It’s a trade-off. If you activate the flower power, you shut off the healing train," she recited, giving her the exact terminology that Macy had given her an hour prior when she was excitedly attempting to explain her findings. The time witch watched as Harry and Alex shared a meaningful look before the latter buried her words under a mouthful of alcohol. "Why? Do you want whitelighter powers? Can you _use_ whitelighter powers?" 

"I suppose that with the right stimuli, you could potentially turn on some of those genes," Macy explained, carefully. 

Alex let out a cackle, one that made most everyone feel uncomfortable for her situation, not to mention devastated at the inner demons currently threatening to take over her mind that were lurking just behind her eyes. "I've been racking my brain for years, worried about what the hell I had done to end up like this, and all it boils down to is shit timing, vindictive bitches, and conditional expression of genes? This is a goddamn nightmare," she muttered, tossing back the rest of her alcohol and making a disgusted face as it went down. 

"I'm still hella confused," Mel quipped. 

"It would explain why you're not very good at it," Harry supplied, offhandedly. 

Both Maggie, who had come to sit beside her, and Alex glared daggers at the whitelighter. "Gee, thanks, Har. That's _super_ helpful," Maggie growled back. 

"That is not what I meant, Maggie." He looked at the botanist meaningfully. "Alex, you know that's not what I meant." 

"Is _anyone_ going to explain what's going on to the two of us?" Macy queried, losing her patience. 

"Nothing big, Macy. Turns out the necessary activator is dying a decade ago and bringing a child back from the dead." Alex waved off the concern on their faces, at once. It certainly did not get the response she expected, as Mel and Macy descended upon her, asking questions over each other to help clarify the situation. "Guys. _Guys_ , can we please focus on the fact my whole family is at war with the Elders and their deaths are possibly homicides? Because it seems to me that should be the point of contention!" She exploded, watching as they all moved back from her screaming if only for a few seconds. " _Shit._ " With bleary eyes, she observed each of the faces looking on at her in concern. In another lifetime, she would have been touched, but right now it was a problem. After all, concern for her wellbeing had cost so many others their lives. "Thanks for the research." 

"I know that face. Settle down," Harry insisted, but before he could finish saying anything of value, she was on her feet, wobbling towards the closet to get her coat. If he were any other type of man, he would have thrown something, yelled, given her a piece of his mind without regard for her feelings… anything, honestly, if it helped her from flying off the handle. Yet, he knew he had to at least try to remain level-headed against her anxiety-driven dramatics. 

He had gotten to his feet and stopped before her in a few strides, only to see her slipping her charcoal duster over her shoulders and fumbling in her pockets to ensure her keys were there. "I have to go. I have to go _right now_ ," she chanted, already picking out the items she thought were entirely necessary for her to relocate, in her head. 

"One day, I swear, you'll be able to hear problematic news and _not_ overreact," he challenged, blocking her path to the door. 

Her cheeks burned a deep crimson at the accusation. "Overreacting? Greenwood, overreacting is what I'll do, on my own, after I'm done wiping memories." She raised her hand to his temple, dead-set on manipulating his memories before his hand caught her wrist. 

"Yes, leave me brain damaged. See if that'll help," he said, sarcastically, his tone angrier than any of them had ever heard it before. "You need to calm down." 

"it's really easy for you to say when you don't remember the circumstances that brought you here, when you have the _luxury_ of not knowing," she argued, through clenched teeth, twisting her arm out of his grasp. She had managed to slip past his blockade, only to be held back by some invisible force. Alex didn't have to look behind her to know it was Macy's doing. 

"I know _enough_. And even if I didn't, it wouldn't mean that any of us would let you go off on your own for the sake of our safety." 

Alex sniffled, shaking her head vigorously in her total refusal to remain within the Vera house any longer. "I. Can't. Stay." She let out a shaky breath, blinking back tears as she struggled against Macy's power. "It's not worth risking them." 

"Risk?" He asked in a haughty tone. He placed his hands on either of her shoulders and squeezing reassuringly. "Alex, we trapped the Harbinger of Hell in a paint can, we can handle a few witches who have forgotten their duty." 

Tears were now rolling freely down her face, making her makeup run and her face become red and splotchy, while she gasped to catch her breath between waves of tears. "Are you insane or just stupid? Have you not been listening this whole time? They've _already_ killed my parents and Rob and-" 

Frowning, he brushed her hair back, the emotion in her voice making his spine tingle. "Breathe. Alex, breathe." She had hunched forward, Macy having relented on her hold. 

"She knew what I was. I heard her say she couldn't risk having me around and she killed my whitelighter for it, Greenwood! I… I…" Her speech became unintelligible as she broke down into sobs, sinking to the floor with her hand over her mouth to muffle the noise. Harry stood awkwardly for a few moments, unsure of what he was meant to do. Alex didn't just break down, crying. She called him an idiot and went around her business and may have occasionally shed a tear at the memory of her death. She would charge the potted plants to keep him company while he slept, but she didn't break down crying. Or, perhaps, the version of Alex that he knew was simply tired of fending for herself. 

After what seemed like an eternity, he sank to his knees beside her, a gentle nudge on her shoulder bringing her into his stiff embracing where she hid her face in his waistcoat. He tried not to think of the mess of makeup that would leave behind, but thought that that would actually make her secretly happy that she had ruined his _old man getup_. He placed his chin just on the crown of her head, noting that her hair smelled of the lavender on his windowsill that kept the scorpions away and that the scent made him feel more secure, though it wasn't the intention. "I know you're scared, but we're not going anywhere and neither are you," he assured, his left hand skimming down her back, trying to contain the shuddering of her bones. 

"Ugh, Harry, could you maybe _try_ to not make it sound like it's a hostage situation?" Mel jested, earning a teary chuckle from the witch currently grasping at handfuls of white oxford shirt. "The poor woman is already traumatized and you're going all Josef Fritzl on her." 

Harry laughed, the sound echoing in his chest and infecting Alex just enough to extract a laugh in response. Leave it to Mel to find a risible morsel in a terribly morbid situation. "I'm afraid you're stuck with us, terrible jokes and all." Maggie was the first to move, closing the distance between them in a few strides and placing her hand on Harry's shoulder. With a watery half smile, Harry wordlessly asked for some tea, to which she nodded and disappeared into the kitchen to make. Macy and Mel followed her to give them a few extra minutes to regroup. 


	10. Jungle camo

It had taken a few minutes to coax the woman off the floor and back onto the living room sofa. Macy had made sure she was wrapped up in a warm blanket with a steaming cup of Earl Grey, while they convened in the kitchen to discuss strategy. So far, they had come up empty. 

"Well, obviously, she's staying with us. She can hang in the attic until she settles down. That way you can keep an eye on her," Mel supplied, leaning on the kitchen counter, head propped on elbow.

Harry was quick to shake his head at the thought. "No. I hate admitting it, but she was right about that," he started, worriedly. "The Elders have a bad habit of dropping in unannounced. It's too much of a risk."

"Then what was the whole _you're stuck with us_ stuff about?" Maggie asked in an accusatory tone. 

Sensing that the empath was feeling a little overwhelmed at the moment, he dropped his voice to a soothing croon. "I fully intend to keep that promise, but it cannot be at the exchange of _your_ safety," he explained, giving them a meaningful look. "I've already told you what happened when she thought I was just _leaking_ information about you. What do you think she'll do if I tell her I'm putting you in the line of fire?" The girls all nodded in understanding.

"OK. What are we doing, then?" Macy asked, hopping onto the counter with a little hop. 

"Fuck if I know," he muttered, scrubbing his face with his hands, pointedly ignoring the amused expression on his charges' faces. "I was rather hoping this evening wouldn't be a _complete_ disaster."

"Disaster? I mean, we kind of fumbled the dismount at the end, but look at how cute we all are... well, most of us," Maggie corrected, nodding at the crumpled and stained fabric of his shirt. 

"Always a silver lining." He sighed, leaning forward to peer at the woman curled tightly on the sofa, staring at the surface of her tea as it steamed. "Thoughts?"

"Millions. None of them useful, though," Mel confessed. "I know I'll regret asking, but, why Hilltowne?"

"Perceptive, as ever, Mel." Harry quipped. "I thought about it when I first learned about her past. Only a very skilled witch could hide a romancer's signature for this long."

"Mom," the three witches chorused, rolling their eyes, as if they should have known. 

"That is my theory, at least," he confirmed. "She certainly didn't move to _Michigan_ for the weather."

"It makes sense. Floramancers are better adapted to warm climates, so they live near the equator. This isn't exactly ideal territory." Macy frowned, tilting her head to the side, curiously. "She's Puerto Rican. Not that everyone on the island knows each other, but… did Mom…?"

Harry shrugged. In reality, he had thought of the possibility several times, but had been reticent to take the plunge and ask the question. "It's possible, but perhaps she doesn't remember or she was simply too young to know it had happened."

"To know what, happened?" Alex asked, shuffling into the kitchen, wrapped in the gingham blanket, holding an orchid she had found, wilting, tucked away into a corner. She sniffed, clumsily drying her face with the back of her hand and smearing dirt over her cheek. "I fixed your plant. I figured I might as well make myself useful."

"Believe me, you will have no shortage of half-dead plants in this house," Mel commented with a smile. She watched curiously as Harry took the orchid from her arms and replaced it with a minute pot of mint that lived on the windowsill above the sink, especially interested in the way the corrugated leaves curled around her index finger. "That's… _different_."

Alex snorted. "That's one way of putting it, I guess."

"Are you alright?" The brit asked, encouraging half-smile on his face. 

"Panic attack has passed, if that's what you mean." She shuffled, tightening the blanket around her as she settled the small mint plant close against her chest. 

"Obviously, fool." He replied, sardonically, to which Alex responded by flipping him off through a crack in her blanket. 

"Do either of you know how to be friends or did you not go to kindergarten?" Mel admonished, doing a wondrous impression of her mother, or so Maggie whispered. 

The woman shrugged in her gingham cocoon. "I was antisocial and I don't think they had kindergarten down mill in those days."

The three sisters burst out in laughter, despite themselves, giggling at the affronted expression on Harry's face. Maggie hugged her, taking advantage of her partially captive extremities to pursue her agenda of forcing friendship on the assistant professor. Amazingly enough, she voiced no complaints, having decided that the witch had endured quite enough of her surly mood to deserve to get her empathic fix. Feeling exhausted, Alex leaned against the empath, offering up the tiny mint plant with a smile. Maggie let the leaves scrub against her skin leaving cool oil on her fingers before giving Alex one last one-armed hug. "Maybe you should take her home, Har." Alex nodded, stifling a yawn. 

"I suppose I must," he assented, feigning an air of inconvenience. "Come along, migraine," he urged, after the woman had said her goodbyes and had unwrapped herself from the blanket. They clambered into Harry's car where Alex promptly fell asleep in the passeger seat until he had woken her up some twenty minutes later as he held the passenger door open. It had taken Alex a few false starts to realize that she was home, and rubbing at her eyes, had slipped out of the car and dragged Harry, by the sleeve of his shirt, behind her up the stairs to her walk-up. 

Harry had never been inside of Alex's apartment before; a thought he supposed was ironic, considering she had every corner of his memorized to a tee and covered in plant spies. Whatever he supposed the inside of the dwelling would look like paled in comparison to the real life explosion of bright, warm colors on the walls and the beginnings of a forest that she had managed to create just inside the door. Her furniture was seemingly nestled amongst dense foliage, vines creeping up and covering one wall, while ornamental shrubs had taken a mind of their own, to filter the light that came through the large windows. It looked wild and overrun, yet no particular part was out of place, or messy. He hated to admit it, but her design was genius and took away from the bitter, cold reality that was winter in Michigan to create a peaceful paradise where she felt at home. 

Alex was still holding onto his sleeve when she crashed onto the sofa, forcing him down beside her with little more than a grunt. Kicking off her shoes, she curled up into herself, which in the emerald fabric of her dress, meant that she basically blended in with the foliage around her. Harry guessed that it was her best attempt at camoflauge to the point that he did not even notice her staring back as he intently studied her form. 

"What?"

A sharp inhale was the only proof that she had caught him off-guard. "Nothing. I just noticed that you never really wear green."

"I think it's a little on the nose for day-to-day use, don't you think?"

"It suits you. Steer into the skid, and all that," he remarked, offhandedly, leaning back into the cushions, watching the woman shuffle and find a comfortable position out of the corner of his eye. "May I ask you a question?"

"I don't know how it works," she responded, before he even dared ask. 

"Ah. Fair enough," he conceded, chuckling. "Have you ever met a plant that doesn't listen?"

He watched her face light up in a smile before she answered. "Yes. Old trees, those who've lived decades, centuries. They don't care for a little girl's orders, but they listen when it matters."

"I wouldn't be as daft as to listen to you, either." He heard her laugh before she swatted him with a decorative pillow. 

"Yeah, well, I'd use you for lumber to make something stupid. Like a billboard full of spelling errors," she giggled. "Or swear words."

"You wouldn't dare."

Sitting up, cross-legged, she gave him a sarcastic look. "Do you know me not to be petty?"

"Of course I fucking don't." Alex's mouth fell agape, eyes crinkling with laughter as he looked oddly pleased with himself for making her laugh when she had been losing her mind just a short while ago. "Go to bed, Alex."

"B-"

"For once, don't argue," he interrupted, gently, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and unbuttoning his waiscoat. "Good night." With a roll of her eyes, she unfurled her legs from under her, dragging her feet around the sofa before ruffling his hair on her way to the bedroom. Stopping briefly, she hunched over to look on the bottom row of the bookshelf and plucked a handsome, leather-bound tome from the group and handed it across the back of the sofa. He stared questioningly at the book for a few seconds before reluctantly closing his fingers around it. With a downward glance, he saw the words _Don Quijote_ emblazoned on the cover. "A story about a madman who kills himself with fancies. How apropos."

"A story about an idealist who was always beaten bloody defending what he believed in even when the world would destroy all his hope," she countered. "It seems your style."

He gave her a look of disbelief. "He was insane," he whispered.

"So are you," she whispered back, before scuttling off into her lair. Harry bit his tongue, flipping over the cover with a haughty glare. 

The night moved slowly in this tropical microcosm, Harry realized, as he shifted in the hammock suspended from the ceiling of the living room, his latest discovery within the living room jungle. He could barely see the world outside, but there was a handful of fireflies that zoomed overhead, weaving in and out of the foliage of a ficus tree. The book, he hated to admit, had caught his attention far more than he would have liked. An insistent rustling from the floor pulled his attention. His left leg stopped the rhythmic rocking of the hammock so he could peek over the side. Rolling across the floor was a small tuft of black fur, seemingly having a ball nuzzling in what looked to be some lemongrass. When the creature noticed that someone was paying attention, it glanced up with wide yellow eyes and meowed insistently. Harry chuckled, settling back into the hammock to continue reading, when he felt the fabric below tug as the tiny beast scrambled its way into the hammock and made a point of being heard. 

"You will be fed _whenever_ it is she feeds you," he told it with an air of finality. The kitten headbutted his hands, shifting the book every time he attempted to restart his reading, while emitting the loudest purr he had ever heard. "Bloody familiars," he muttered to himself, before snapping the book closed, lifting the kitten in one hand and leveling his eyes with the little monster. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not Alex. I'm not feeding you. Kindly take your complaints, elsewhere," he explained, setting the cat back on the ground. His warning was not well-heeded, as the kitten simply restarted its climb into the whitelighters lap and started its meow and purr routine, once more. "You better leave me alone once I feed you," he grumbled, swinging his legs off the hammock and carrying the cat into the kitchen. 

When Alex woke later that morning, she expected to find the whitelighter passed out on the sofa or the hammock. She did not, however, expect him to be sitting at her kitchen table, dark bags under his eyes, clutching a steaming mug of coffee while an all-black kitten munched dry food off a platter beside him. 

"Good… morning?" Her statement came out as a question, as she rubbed her eyes to make sure that she was actually witnessing what she was witnessing. Harry glanced up at the woman, in her oversized shirt and shorts, looking refreshed while he felt like he had done another stint at Tartarus. He wanted to quip something sarcastic, but decided that gulping down some more coffee was a better route to pursue. "Hey, cutie!" She cooed, padding silently towards the table, making pleased faces at the kitten and quickly dipping her fingers into the silky black pouf, enjoying the happy noises it made.

"I ransacked every cabinet and closet in your flat for hours and ended up going to the corner shop at an unreasonably early hour. Where the hell do you keep the cat food?" He growled, drowning his frustration in caffeine that just made him grumpier. 

Alex, on the other hand, was still making faces at the feline and using an unusually high-pitched voice to talk to it. "I don't. He's not mine, Harry."

" _WHAT?_ "

"This little floof isn't mine, Harry," she reconfirmed with a giggle, having taken the cat in her arms and allowed it to snuggle close to her chest. "He must of slipped in through the window by the fire escape."

"Alex, did I go to a shop at five A-M, in day-old crumpled clothes to buy food for a stowaway stray?"

The woman beamed, playing with the tiny paws with their bright pink little toes. "No, you bought food for our new _friend_." She giggled as the cat placed one of its front paws on her cheek and kneaded it gently. "Look how precious!"

"I hate it."

"Don't be such a grump, Greenwood." She cooed at the cat again with a large grin. "Ooh, Greenwood! Do you want to be named _Greenwood_."

"Pardon me, madam, but _what_? You are not giving the cat _my name_." He looked so serious that Alex was tempted to believe him.

"But you found him!"

His face was serious and almost deadly. "No, I discovered him _destroying_ your lemongrass."

Alex gasped, holding the cat up, excitedly. "Lemongrass!" Setting the kitten back on the table to resume its meal, she twirled around the kitchen, pulling things from the cabinets and fridge to make breakfast. He really had ransacked the place during the night, if the state of her pantry was any indication. "Lemongrass Greenwood. Has a nice ring to it."

Harry glared daggers at Alex. "I forbid you."

"I'd love to see you _try_ ," she challenged with a wide grin, stopping beside him just long enough to ruffle his already messy hair and lay a gentle hand on his cheek before setting about cooking.


	11. Peace offering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff? Fluff

"Hey, there, buddy. Having a rough day?" Maggie asked patronizingly of her whitelighter, who was angrily pacing his office at the university. It was not often that she got texts from her magical godfather that were not a spell, an order, or a strongly-worded warning. 

"Rough? _Rough?_ Maggie, eternal suffering at the hands of memory scorpions in Tartarus, was rough. This is _apocalyptic_." Harry exclaimed, putting together scraps of paper on his desk with a growl. 

With a barely repressed smile, Maggie closed the door of the office, deciding that people did not need to think that the head of a department was in the midst of a mental break down, even though it was partially true. "Right. Do you mind explaining what _the minging spawn of Satan made the HC essays ribbons_ means?"

The professor took a deep breath, attempting to reign in his emotions, but was finding it increasingly difficult to do so. "I put the Honors' class essays on my desk this morning, and went to a meeting. When I come back, this bother is here and has torn half of them to shreds," he said through gritted teeth, holding a well-loved slightly larger Lemongrass by the scruff where he hung looking generally unbothered. "Why?"

"Well, Macy works in a lab, I was in class, and Mel has a shift at the Haunt, so we couldn't take him. You were the only person available."

"When you three volunteered to help raise the little parasite, I didn't think I was part of the package deal," he ground out, angrily. 

Maggie pouted, reaching out for the kitten, who meowed appreciatively and purred loudly as he rubbed against her chest. Harry went back to combing through the confetti that were his essays, attempted to make sense out of the remains. "LG is too young to stay home on his own. Alex is teaching a lab and doesn't have an office, _really, they treat her like a graduate student- she should have her own office, but that's besides the point_." He stared at her as if waiting for her to get to the point. "Plus, he kind of loves you, you sorta love her."

The man looked up, the intensity of his stare making Maggie shift uncomfortably in her place. She sort of wished she could sneak a look into his thoughts, but figured it would probably end in bodily harm. "Get out of my office. Take that demonic migraine with you," he said, deadpan. 

The witch shrugged, smiling guiltily. "I can't, I have class."

Harry had reached the end of his rope, and burst out. "What the bleeding hell am I supposed to do with it?"

"One, settle down; you're offending my delicate sensibilities," she began, smirking at the annoyed roll of his eyes. "Two, Har, he's a baby. Yesterday, I had him playing with a crumpled piece of paper for three hours," she explained, unsure of how someone so smart could be so stupid. "Either you entertain him, or he'll figure out a way to do it, himself. Now, I have a Psych class to go to." She placed the cat on the desk, watching with a smile as it ambled towards Harry with its tail high before she excused herself. She had gotten half-way out the door when she peeked back in. "By the way, your outfit is _full_ of cat hair."

With the briefest of breaths, the man returned his gaze to the ruined homework, attempting his best not to get upset over their demise. As he watched the kitten swipe its paw over the paper streamers, he decided that this was not the moment to be _an adult_ about the situation. Without a word to the feline, he left the office, making sure to close the door behind him (Lord forbid he _lose_ the mangy thing) and stomped down the hallway and out across the quad to the science block. Turning the corner, he glided down the narrow corridor where the basic bio labs were held. 

"So, I told them to bring in their reports late, but make sure to dock points for late entry, OK?" Harry heard Alex's voice echoing from the next hall over before getting her in his sights, accompanied by her graduate TA. She beamed up at him when she took note of his presence. "Hey, Greenwood! Fancy seeing you around here."

Hands clasped behind his back, he gave her a tight-lipped smile. "Greetings, Alexandra," he acknowledged, nodding shortly. The TA cleared her throat, smiling up at Harry coquettishly. 

Alex looked between them for a second before making a sound of realization. "Shannon, this is Professor Greenwood, head of Women's Studies. Harry, this is Shannon Talbott, sixth year graduate student in my old lab," she introduced them with a smile, pointedly ignoring the fact that Harry looked like he wanted to strangle her. 

"Women's studies, eh? You must be such a _fascinating_ man, Professor," the TA commented, offering her hand to the whitelighter and holding it for far longer than was warranted. "It's such a pleasure."

"Wonderful to meet you, Shannon," he replied, rescuing his hand and schooling his expression into its usual mask of sardonic British politeness. "I didn't mean to interrupt your instructions, Doctor. I just came to inquire about the essays on my desk."

The witch looked sheepish, offering an apologetic smile. "I know. I'm sorry. He's going through a paper phase, but I made copies of all the essays and locked them in your drawer," she assured, before frowning. "Should have been in the note, wasn't it?"

A blank expression was his only reaction. "Note?"

"Yeah. Sticking out of your jacket pocket. I figured you'd find it there, as LG would have grabbed it off anywhere else," she mentioned, pointing at the corner of a post it note in the jacket he had failed to take to his meeting, before she turned to the TA to finish giving instructions. He pulled the blue piece of sticky paper to note Alex's tiny, cramped handwriting on it, and sighed. _Good morning, Greenwood! I'm sorry to dump Lemongrass Greenwood on you like this, but I'm teaching a lab and the girls were all busy. We've already had an incident, but I taped the damaged essay together and made copies of everything. They're in the drawer. See you at 1pm! Love, Alex._ By the time he had finished reading, he was met with Alex's carefree grin. "Lunch? I brought extra," she offered, excitedly. 

"Sure. That would be lovely."

"Great, just-" She put up her index finger to indicate that she needed a minute, before telling Shannon the last of her instructions and handing over the stack of lab reports the students had just turned in. "Thank you, Shannon. See you later!" With a wave, she nodded down the other direction towards the staff break room to grab the food. Once they had fallen into step with each other, Alex handed over a scrap of paper over to the man. 

Harry frowned at it for a few seconds before grabbing it out of her hand and staring at the string of numbers written in bright orange ink. "What's this?"

"Shannon's number. She has a… _thing_ … for professors," she replied through a giggle. They turned into the staffroom and Alex pulled containers out of the fridge with care. "Baked chicken, vegetable rice and green beans. OK?" She gave him an expectant look. 

The man nodded. "Yes, that's fine. Could you not have told her I was unavailable?"

Alex put the containers in the microwave, after opening the steam vent on all the lids. "You're not, though, and you're not wearing a ring, which would be the _one_ thing that might stop her from pursuing you." She lowered her voice, glancing sneakily over her shoulder at the other faculty members currently occupying the room. "Or would you have preferred I told her you were a hundred year-old, immortal being who can magically fix papercuts?"

"I would have _preferred_ never to interact with her, but now I have the dilemma of what the expectation of this number is!"

His friend laughed, stacking the now steaming containers on top of each other and leading him outside to one of the picnic tables at the quad. "Expectation? Harry, it's a phone number. You can lose it, you can ignore it, you can call her and tell her you're not interested, you can call her and say you want to go out. There's no _expectation_."

"I can't-"

Alex rolled her eyes and groaned. "Oh my gosh, and you call me overdramatic." She had set up two bowls and was serving food onto both of them. "No one is making you do anything."

"I was _going_ to say," he began petulantly, "that I can't stay very long or else your pestilence-bringing curse will destroy my office. I can only imagine what he's doing with the glass chess set."

She frowned, ruffling her curly hair in what he had learned was a nervous tell when she was frustrated and tilting her head at his surly expression. "You did not take a single look around your office, did you?"

He allowed himself a minute before any response. "Why do you say?"

"I put away everything on your desk in the top drawer and the cabinet under lock and key." She shook her head, eating a forkful of rice and smiling derisively. "Exactly, how many seconds did it take before you decided to come yell at me?"

His cheeks burned hot crimson, an unusual response for the whitelighter to ever have, as he looked at his food with incredible concentration. "Do you always bring copious amounts of food?"

"No. When I realized I had to leave Lemongrass with you I decided to bring you lunch as a peace offering," she explained with a smile. "Do you like it?"

"It's delightful. Thank you." Alex smiled with satisfaction, sitting to catch the sun rays as she ate. Looking around the bustling quad, Harry realized that he spent all of his time at the University in his office. He would be hard-pressed to mention a time he had actively decided to spend any amount of time outside, whereas, it seemed like Alex spent her time there, exclusively. It wasn't hard to imagine, considering she didn't have an actual office to work out of, most days. Yet, he couldn't imagine the botanist conforming to the 9-5, living to work lifestyle. He may have been alive longer, but she definitely lived more. They ate in comfortable silence, allowing the sounds of birds chirping overhead and undergraduates talking to each other as they passed by the fill the air. An errant, chilly breeze wafted through the air, moving with it the smells of food, freshly mown grass, and the aroma of lavender that seemed to permeate every inch of Alex's belongings. "Working with lavender this morning?" he queried, smirking at her before taking another bite of his lunch. 

She rolled her eyes, chewing a mouthful of food before asking. "Why is that?"

"You absolutely reek of it," he said, deadpan.

"Do I?" She brought her shirt up to her nose and even tried to catch a sniff of her fringe before her face crumpled. "Weird. I don't smell it."

"Oh, I definitely can, don't worry," he snarked with a smirk, nimbly avoiding a green bean she sent flying at his head. 

"Shut up, loser, or I won't give you the black tea I've been growing for you," she riposted, settling to eat the last of her meal while the sun warmed her face.


	12. Secret mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look at all this fluff!

The kitchen of the Vera-Vaughn household was always a place of reunions. Currently, it housed two out of the three sisters and a very confused botanist. 

"Explain to me again why this is a good idea," Alex insisted, watching Maggie and Macy scurrying around the kitchen with flour all over their fronts and several bowls of cake batter on the countertop. 

Maggie groaned, passing Macy another lined cake tin so that the scientist could pour a very precise amount of the batter inside. "God, you and Mel are the two bitterest people I've ever met. Stop raining on my parade," she snapped, wiping down her brow and leaving a trail of batter on her forehead. 

Alex tried not to smirk, but was failing miserably. "Mags, I'm not trying to rain on your parade-" 

"You are!" 

"-I just _know_ this will not go down well," she pressed on, looking between the sisters. "Mace, help me out here." 

The scientist smiled, pouring the mix carefully. "Usually, I would agree, but… I'm kind of with Maggie on this one." 

The professor frowned. "Et tu, Macy?" With a sigh, she rolled her eyes. "Do what you like, but keep me out of it." 

"No, no, no. We need your help," Maggie whined with a frown. With wide eyes Alex shook her head, her short curls bouncing around her head with the movement. "Please, please, _pleeeeaseee_." 

" _Absolutely_ not." 

"Please." Maggie pouted, nudging Macy in the ribs briefly to encourage her to pout, as well. "I mean, unless you hate us and don't want us to all be have a happy occasion, that is. Especially after all our little family has gone through so much in so little time…" 

Alex gasped, mouth flapping like a fish for a few seconds before she narrowed her gaze. "You dirty, sneaky, little empath." 

The youngest sister smiled a cheeky grin. "Yeah, you just got played. Sorry." 

Macy wiped her hands on a kitchen towel before she dug into her pocket and pulled out a small vial with a swirling black fluid within it. "Minor demon. Throw some vinegar on it to vanquish," she said simply before tossing the small container for Alex to catch. 

"I hate you," she growled before snapping her fingers and disappearing in a fog. 

"Love you, too!" 

Alex paced the length of her own kitchen, watering can in hand as she attended the mess of potted plants that were littering the windowsills. She addressed each by name as she made their soil the exact amount of moist it needed to be to ensure optimum growth conditions. Placing the watering can into the sink with a sigh, she dug into her apron pocket and pulled out the demon-containing vial Macy had handed her. Staring at it with apprehension, she considered her options. Lemongrass pounced up on the counter, sniffing the container before hissing and looking up at his witchmate with the closest thing imaginable to a questionable look. 

"Don't look at your mother like that, Lemongrass," she accused in a firm voice and the cat bumped its fuzzy head against her hands, purring loudly. "I know it's a shit idea." The cat reared up, rubbing his face onto her chest, leaving a trail of ebony cat hairs over the apron and white t-shirt she was wearing. Reaching into her back jeans' pocket, she retrieved her cell phone, and scrolled to Harry's contact information. Hitting call button, she tossed the vial on the floor, letting it smash and the swirling black mass to turn corporeal. 

_"Hello, Alexandra."_

Taking Lemongrass into her arms, she balanced the phone on her shoulder and calmly paced backwards. "Hiya, Har," she began, quite calmly. "So, suppose _hypothetically_ I had a demon in my kitchen… what should I do?" The response she was expecting through the line actually came in the form of a loud pop and his form appearing in front of her. 

Putting the phone into his pocket, he raised his hands and anxiously turned her head this way and that while actively avoiding the swiping cat paw egging for attention. "Are you alright? Where's the demon?" She whistled, point behind him with an amused expression. Turning on his heel, he gave a little jump, staring down at the demon who was mostly confused as to why he was in a kitchen, in the first place. The whitelighter reached to push the woman behind him while he analyzed the crooked little creature actively hissing at them. "Don't engage with it, Alex." 

" _Literally_ didn't consider that an option, Greenwood," she retorted, rubbing the tummy of the cat in her arms. 

Surprised, he craned his neck to face her. "Really? That doesn't sound like you." 

She stared at him, deadpan, stopping her stroking for a minute. "I _called_ you, didn't I?" 

"Yes, you did," he accepted, a little too reluctantly for her taste, it seemed. He turned back to the demon. "Madragar. Do you happen to have any vinegar?" 

"White, apple cider, champagne or balsamic?" She asked, a little sarcastically. 

"Whatever white distilled garbage you use to wash your moka pot," he retorted, holding his hand out to her. A pint bottle of white vinegar filled it a moment later. Unscrewing the cap on the top, he sent a splash hurtling towards the demon, where it sizzled before it burst into flames and disappeared. "There we go. One demon, dealt with," he announced with a warm smile. "I'm afraid I have office hours, so if you're OK-" 

Alex panicked, briefly. "Er… I-I… I don't feel well," she quickly interjected, though the phrase sounded more like a question. 

The whitelighter immediately looked concerned. "Don't feel well, how? Did you inhale any of the aerosol?" 

She made a face, half-way between a shrug and a nod. "Um… sure. That." 

"Oh, no. That is terrible. The fumes are actually really bad. We need to sit you down." Taking her by the elbow, he maneuvered around the plants strewn about the way. He gently pushed her to a sitting position, the woman bouncing on the overstuffed sofa, black cat lulling himself to a sleep in her arms. Judging her temperature with his hand on her forehead, he frowned, brown eyes taking detailed stock of the woman, though she seemed generally nonplussed. "Your temperature seems to be normal." He leaned forward, far past the reach of her personal bubble and sniffed. 

"Hi. What the fuck are you doing?" She asked, a small smirk crawling up to her face. 

Rolling his eyes, he pulled back an inch or two, mostly because Lemongrass was attempting to make friends, once more. "People who've inhaled Madragar aerosol often smell like charcoal, not that I could ever smell anything over all that bloody lavender oil you have on." 

She groaned. "What is your infatuation with lavender oil?" 

He scoffed at her. "What is yours?" 

"I don't have one. I'm not wearing any," she snapped back. 

"You're a bloody liar, Alexandra Figueroa," he muttered, staring intensely into her eyes, looking for signs of jaundice. 

"And you are far too close for anyone's liking, except for Lemongrass Greenwood's." She sassed back, narrowing her gaze at him. They stared at each other in challenge for several seconds before Alex pushed the cat into Harry's chest, taking advantage of his innate reflex of closing his arms around the bundle, despite his annoyed expression. Secretly, and he meant _very_ secretly, he was partially warming to the beast, as he was much better company now that the kitten was a bit older and didn't want to destroy everything. He gave the black fluff a cursory tickle under the chin before setting him down on the carpeted floor. 

"By your attitude it sounds like you're doing just fine, so can I go?" He gestured over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. "I have students to check up on. Papers to grade. You know, teacher stuff?" 

Alex went into her mind and tried to find another excuse that he might find compelling. "I'm scared?" He looked confused, not having expected those particular words to come out of her mouth. 

"Oh." He sat down on the other end of the couch, folding his hands over his lap in the perfect imitation of some sort of therapist. "That Madragar was probably a one-off. Likely attracted by the basil plants." She scrambled for something to say, a sign that he mistook as genuine fear. "The cat will sense anything weird. It might be the only useful thing the mangy beast will ever do." He gauged her reaction before adding, "And if you ever feel unsafe you can always stay with-" 

Alex's phone buzzed and Maggie's Caller ID lit up the screen. "Oh, thank God," she murmured in a rush, picking up the call. "Hi, Mags. Be there in two shakes." She hung up, standing from the couch to undo her apron and smooth down her shirt. "Er…Maggie burnt down the kitchen." 

"What?" He jumped off the sofa, waving her over with a sense of urgency. "Come on. Let's go!" 

With a click of his fingers, they were transported to the Vera-Vaughn household. As soon as they had materialized, Alex made it a point to stand as far from the whitelighter as was humanly possible. Three sisters were all holding a comically massive cake with a dangerously large amount of candles. Amidst his shocked face, they sang _Happy birthday_ to him, discordantly, in both Spanish and English. The truth was that Harry did not remember when his birthday really was. Whenever he got his papers renewed, move after move, he would use whatever particular date it was as his birthday. He would set it and forget it. The fact that these girls were making such a ruckus for a completely arbitrary date was truly bittersweet, if a little uncomfortable. 

He plastered a smile onto his face and blew out his candles in a few breaths and hugged the sisters, making sure to tune his thoughts into a happy little corner, lest he be discovered by the resident empath. Being released from the bone-crushing embrace, he glanced over his shoulder to look at the botanist, who seemed to have a lot more knowledge of the situation, as she was looking rather morosely at her battered black Converse before he caught her eye. _I'm sorry_ , she mouthed and he smiled sadly and shook away her concern. His grin returned as he ushered everyone to the dining room table to serve up the layers of Victoria sponge and jam. 

"Oh, we totally surprised you! Your little face was precious," Mel remarked, smiling through copious amounts of frosting. 

Harry shrugged. "I get so busy these days that I forget about the daily minutiae. Thank you all very much for remembering." He smiled nodding towards Alex. "Next time, perhaps enlist the help of someone who knows how to lie." 

"No, she was just being a Debbie Downer about the whole thing. Probably wanted you to find out and ruin the surprise," Maggie insisted, teasingly making a mock angry face towards the professor. "But thank you for not ruining it, Allycat. Love you!" 

An amused grin spread onto Harry's face as he licked jam off his fork. "Is it _Allycat_ , now?" 

Alex glared at him. "Oh, fuck off, Greenwood." 

" _Whoa!_ " Macy was laughing madly at the outburst. "That was _so_ aggressive." 

"Yes, well, I don't get a free pass just because it's my birthday, it seems," Harry quipped, looking sidelong at the woman who was ravaging through her piece of cake and trying not make direct eye contact. 

"Why mess with a perfectly good formula?" Alex asked, finally looking up with a smile. "Didn't you leave a couple of students in your office when you rushed to my apartment?" 

Harry took a couple of seconds to catch up before his face switched into one of concern. He looked at his watch with panic in his eyes. "My office." 

"Go, go, go!" Mel urged, amidst giggles. "We'll see you, later." 

He stood from the table, looking apologetic. "I'm terribly sorry. Thank you for the lovely surprise. The cake was amazing." He scrambled to gather his wits before turning to the botanist. "I need an excuse. Do you mind…?" 

Rolling her eyes, she groaned. "Why do _I_ have to clean up your mess?" She seemed to enjoy the dirty look he gave her. 

"Because I clean up yours all the time. Get moving," he said through clenched teeth. With a grin, she shuffled up after him and held onto his wrist before they disappeared. 

They were back into Alex's living room, Harry feeling quite tired by his consecutive bouts of orbing. Heaving a great sigh, he sat down on the sofa, leaning his head all the way and staring at the ceiling, not even bothered when Lemongrass leapt into his lap. 

She sat at the other end, just as he had done earlier, when he thought she was in distress. "Are you OK?" 

"You really must stop asking that question when I look the littlest bit distressed," he said as reply, laughter in his voice. "Thanks for… I didn't think… I never considered it, I guess." 

"It's fine. For what it's worth, I tried to talk them out of it." She reached over to pet Lemongrass, but the cat made an unhappy noise, and inched closer into the whitelighter, clearly picking a favorite for the moment. "Hey! He calls you a mangy beast!" 

He righted himself, grinning brightly and stroking the black fur with nimble fingers. "And yet, I'm still more likeable." 

"You'll have to tell them, you know. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but at some point, you'll have to come clean." 

"It scares me when you're rational," he admitted, allowing the cat to climb up onto his chest and stretch out along his form. "It's hard to admit you have no idea who you are. I don't even know if my name is actually _Harry Greenwood_." 

"It's definitely not," she concurred with a gentle smile, "but it doesn't mean it's not _your_ name." Alex concluded with a shrug, with no further explanation. "But that's matter for a different day, I think. Happy birthday, Greenwood."


	13. Alarming intel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... I was feeling angsty and then it just... happened. It's a monster of a chapter, but I wanted to kind of give you this chaos in a single dose. Er... welp... there you go. Enjoy?

"We just need to know where they hang out," Mel announced, decisively, pacing the length of the living room. 

"I heard the dude who runs the Apothecary say that there would be movement around the old town square," Alex added to the conversation. "I can check with them, if you want." 

"Thanks. We'll need all the help we can get to vanquish this guy." Mel was going to add something else when the sound of lightning cracking open another dimension caught their attention. The sisters, Harry, and Alex all looked at each other before panic struck. "Crap! Alex, go!" Mel whispered, but the other woman remained immobile, staring at the empty doorway as if expecting death. 

The sound of heels echoed in the halls, fast approaching, just as they often did. The idea of Charity walking into a room to find a floramancer in their midst was truly a terrifying prospect. Harry leapt into action, aware that if he didn't do anything now, there would be hell to pay, later. He ran the length of the room, his only choice to tackle the woman out of sight of the doorway before teleporting into her living room. They crash-landed on the floor with a groan before Harry had scrambled off her, sitting to the side and helped her to sit, as well. His hands cupped her face as he leveled his gaze with hers, concern swirling in his brown eyes. "Hey! Are you with me?" 

"Sorry," she responded, meekly, her bones rattling in a nervous shiver. "I've been dreading that moment for so long that I sort of just clammed up." 

He let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding, brushing his thumbs over her cheekbones in what he hoped was a soothing manner. "It's alright," he assured. "I need to go back to the house and make sure she didn't catch sight of you. I will teleport back to this exact spot. If you hear _anything_ anywhere else, I want you to randomly pick a place and orb. Immediately. We will find you. Understood?" He watched her nod, diligently, green eyes wide as saucers. He didn't enjoy having to leave her alone, especially when she looked as frazzled as she did, but he couldn't leave the Charmed ones alone, either. It would raise too many suspicions and put them all in danger. They were all pretty much on thin ice, right now. 

"Harry…" She let the sentence unspoken. 

"Everything is fine," he reassured, trying to make his tone as convincing as possible. He looked up, as if he was concentrating on something, and Alex knew one of the girls was probably calling him. "I have to go. Be safe." She nodded once more before he briefly leaned in to peck her cheek and finally let go of her face, disappearing with a snap. 

When Harry teleported back a half-hour later, the whole flat was seemingly empty, and yet, he could sense the awkward tingle of her energy in his fingertips. "Alex?" He called, quietly. "Lemongrass?" Though the woman did not answer, the feline did. He emerged from within the jungle in the living room and weaved through his legs. His shoulders slumped, releasing some of the tension that was holding them high. She had to be here. She would rather die a fiery death than leave her dark, feline companion. He directed his legs towards where the cat emerged. "Alex?" Between two ficus trees he saw a figure with its back to him, huddled close to the ground. He could make out the pale purple markings through the tank top she was wearing, consistent with those he had seen from her memories what felt to be a century ago. Upon closer inspection, the tattoo looked like a textbook illustration of a lavender plant with its pale flowers in full bloom. The image made him roll his eyes, good-naturedly, as he dropped to his knees beside her and laid a hand on her shoulder. Alex immediately tensed at the contact. "Hey, it's just me," his tone was gentler than usual, aware the poor girl was probably traumatized right now. 

Alex looked sidelong at him, peering from under her eyelashes. Her eyes were red and puffy when she appraised him with a sigh of relief. "You took a while and I panicked, so I …er… _hid_." She looked ashamed of the decision. 

"Good girl. Good instincts," he whispered, "I'd rather you hide than fight." 

A mirthless chuckle escaped her throat. "I'm shit at fighting, as you well know." A wayward tear dripped down her cheek, the threat of many more glistening in her eyes. 

He tutted, brushing it away before putting an arm around her shoulders and pulling her towards him. "It's alright. I have you, now." The floramancer hugged the whitelighter tightly for a second before letting him lead her out to the sofa. "We're all fine." 

Alex played with the frayed fringe of her jean shorts for want of a better activity to occupy her anxious hands. "What happened?" 

"Nothing. They were tracking Alistair and sensed a strange energy in the house. We convinced them it was just S'arcana energy from Jada. Whoever covered your magical signature did one hell of a job with it, if it fooled an Elder. Charity should have been able to sense it miles away. Mel also told them in no uncertain terms that the Elders were not to drop in announced, again." He shrugged. "But they're putting spells on the house, just in case." 

"I'm sorry I freaked out," her voice was sincerely apologetic. None of this was her fault, and yet she felt the need to accent her every word with a reminder that this was not what she wanted. It was a habit that Harry was unsure he would ever be able to break, behind her cussing and her constant need to ridicule him. 

"The only thing you should be _sorry_ about is that bloody tattoo," he said with a laugh, muddling through the kitchen to make some coffee. 

Alex frowned. "What tattoo?" 

The whitelighter stared as if she had two heads. "The lavender on your back." 

"I'm scared of needles. And the fact that Rob would have had my head on a silver platter," she explained, hiking her legs up and wrapping her arms around her knees. "I've never gotten a tattoo," 

He laughed, rolling his eyes as he put the moka pot on the burner. "Stop pulling my leg, Alex." 

There was a moment of silence, where the only noise came from the moka pot creaking and the water beginning to boil. With a knotted brow, Alex walked up to the mirror by the door, turning her back to it and staring at the empty expanse of skin visible through the tank top. "Are you sure you didn't get whacked on the head?" 

He marched up to the mirror beside her and used his right hand to point to where he clearly saw a lavender stalk and its flowers. "There. You… you don't see it." It wasn't a question, anymore, and the concern came back into his eyes. 

"No, because there's nothing…" she trailed off, her face going from a scrunched up frown to one of slack surprise in record time. " _S h i t_ ," she whispered, catching his eyes in the mirror before quickly averting her gaze, her skin becoming flushed. 

_One day. All I ever want is one day where the world isn't falling apart_ , he thought, undoing the top two buttons of his oxford and doing up the sleeves to his elbows. Gently, he pressed. "Do you know what's going on?" 

Still trying to see the invisible ink, she twisted her frame this way and that, but observing nothing. "I might." 

"Go on, then." Harry hated the words the second he said them. 

Alex's smile did not reach her eyes, and that had nothing to do with it being reflected in the mirror. "You're not going to like it." 

Shaking his head in defeat, he asked. "When do I ever?" He stared at the hand she offered over her shoulder, considering whether or not he could still run from this, before grasping it in his. 

The world swirled around them, and he found himself standing in the expansive backyard of a small country house. The house itself was painted in bright colors: greens, yellows, terracotta red. Trees surrounded the whole property, all of them heavy-laden with fruit or flowers, giving a home to the birds and bees that chirped and buzzed overhead. It reminded Harry of Alex's living room, and it made perfect sense when he saw a little girl, maybe four or five running around the grass in a green sundress, long mane of chocolate curls bouncing in the warm summer wind. Down the girl's back, he could see the same lavender tattoo that they were arguing about. He followed the little girl as he ran up to a man with a machete, chopping down some sugarcane and stripping it with powerful swipes before handing the little girl a chunk. Alex sat on a workbench seat, gnawing on the cane, letting sweet nectar drip down her face as she watched the tall, copper-tinged, bald elder continue his work as the sun beat down. 

If this place wasn't surreal enough now, it got a little weirder as the two began to speak, though their words did not match their mouth movements. Harry came to realize that they were speaking Spanish to each other, and the powerhouse that was Alex's bilingual brain was translating as they went, though their voices sounded like they belonged to the people speaking. 

"Grandma says not to trail dirt into the house, again," Alex said, between bites, her legs kicking back and forth on the bench. 

"Your Grandma is no fun, negrita," the man replied, smiling impishly at what Harry assumed was his granddaughter. 

Alex giggled. "She's gonna hear you!" The girl glanced over her shoulder, looking at the small woman raking leaves, who looked like an older version of Alex, with fairer skin and straight hair. "Plus, you married her." The whitelighter couldn't help but laugh. Even a young Alex was just as blunt as the grown up version. 

The man laughed, wiping his brow and sitting beside the girl on the bench, taking a piece of sugar cane for himself and gnawing on it. "Well, I thought she was the adventurous type. Sneaking off to dances, getting into fights, tattooing plants on her wrists… whole deal." Harry groaned, apparently disregard for the rules was a familial trait. More importantly, he turned to watch her grandmother, as she gathered leaves into a pile and sprinkled powder on them, turning them instantly into mulch; her wrists, inside and out, were empty. 

Before he could question the vision any further, it swirled. They were in the same backyard. A table was laid out with food as the family sat to eat. Alex looked a little older, dressed in a pair of overalls and a t-shirt beside a woman that she bared some resemblance to, though not as starkly as her grandmother. The woman had the same copper-tinged skin as her grandfather, though she had the same mop of curly hair as Alex. Beside her, a man, hair mostly gray, though his face was young, sat tracing an invisible pattern on the woman's thigh. Clearly, he was the culprit for Alex's premature greys. "Why are there weeping willows, but not laughing uncontrollably willows?" 

"Every day. You ask that _every day_ ," Alex's mother replied, in a laugh. 

The man grinned broadly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Because every day I _see_ this weeping willow and I'm forced to ask myself again. Don't blame me, blame whoever gave you that," he defended, pointing at the design though Harry could only see skin in its place. Alex had fallen a moment later, skinning her knee and Harry was pulled back out of the memory and into the living room at present day. 

Alex tapped the toe of her right shoe against the floor, kicking some imaginary pebble, and looking all-around awkward. "So…" 

Harry breathed deeply. "So, whitelighters can see their charges' marks, even if they can't, themselves." 

For a moment, the woman tried to start a response, in vain, only succeeding in looking a bit like a fish. "Right. You didn't get it, and now I have to explain. Not that I can feel _any_ more awkward." 

"Explain what? It was pretty clear," he said, haughtily, as he watched something akin to a flash of rage in her eyes. He took a preemptive step back, feeling her get frustrated. 

She really hated having to dwell on this. "My grandfather couldn't see my mother's mark, even though he was her original whitelighter," Alex explained, hoping that would be enough to lead him to the correct conclusion. It wasn't, and he stared blankly back. "And Dad could not see Grandma's, though he was her whitelighter for a short while." Harry shook his head, still out of the loop. "Rob couldn't see mine, or he would have murdered me for thinking I got a tattoo. You're not my proper whitelighter and can see it..." 

"I still don't…" Realization dawned upon his face, making his eyes widen exponentially. "Oh." 

"Yeah, _oh_." 

Grimacing, Harry struggled to find the words to express himself. "Alex, don't take this the wrong way, but I would much rather not be able to see-" 

Alex's eyes nearly leapt out of their sockets. "And you think I want you to? I didn't choose this!" 

The coffee was boiling rapidly now, the rumble filling the air. "Then how did it happen? It wasn't me!" 

"How the _fuck_ should I know? If you haven't noticed, I know literally _nothing_ about floramancy," she bit back, brushing past him to the sofa. Lemongrass looked between the two, trying to decide who he was going to side with, but ultimately deciding that climbing onto the hammock was the best course of action. "Plus, I'm… already seeing someone, so…" 

Surprise tinged his expression into the most comically British outrage. "You, _what_? Who is he?" 

" _She_ is a singer for a local band," she ground out, glaring daggers at the whitelighter. 

"Oh. I apologize. So, you are-" He grappled for a delicate way to phrase his question. 

"I'm _bi_ , and also, not the point of this conversation, Greenwood." Harry panicked for a few seconds, flittering between staying and conversing and grabbing the coffee off the stove. He decided coffee was less likely to strangle him with vines, and so he poured two cups, putting cream in one and leaving the other black. He handed her the black cup of coffee, and they sipped in silence, both of them in their own little bubbles trying to make sense of the world. 

He knew it was unwise to say anything further. He was more likely to say something offensive than helpful, and he felt they owed it to themselves to resolve their issues. "This is getting us nowhere. It's been a high-tension day. Maybe we need a few hours to regroup before we talk to each other like people, again." Harry proposed, feeling that he needed to be a voice of reason amongst the madness, and also because he needed to be a few thousand feet away from her so he could get his head on straight. "I'll be back at eight. I'll bring dinner and we can talk." Alex nodded, silently, barely aware that he was still inside the room or, at the very least, carefully ignoring his presence. Yes, they needed a time out. With a tight-lipped smile, he orbed out of the living room. 

When he knocked on her front door at eight o'clock, his stomach was still entirely in knots. Though he had poured most of the frustration and anxiety into cooking, it still felt like he was avoiding the issue. What even was the main issue at the moment? That he was somehow destined to meet Alex at a certain place, in a certain time so that the Universe could have another round of floramancers for the next generation? Or, perhaps, that they were lying to themselves when they said they wanted nothing personal to do with each other? Maybe it was a completely arbitrary occurrence and trying to treat it as an important even would drive them both to insanity. Who even knew? The woman who opened the door, however, was decidedly not Alex. Much taller, all blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and scowling, she was wearing the most ridiculously uncomfortable-looking dress in the world. There was a small part of him that wanted to scream in frustration, but he quickly extinguished the flame with some well-placed disdain. She stared at him from head to toe with a curled lip before calling over her shoulder. 

"Babe, did you order takeout? Because I told you I'm not eating today." The valley girl voice grated on his nerves, and he looked over the taller woman's shoulder at Alex, who was hurriedly putting her clothes into place and gave her a deadpan expression. 

"That's my friend Harry. I told you about that meeting I have," Alex replied, looking sheepish. 

"Yes. Harry Greenwood, professor at Hilltowne," he announced, pleasantly, plastering his fake persona on and offering his hand to shake. The blonde simply stared at him. 

"Why are you meeting with a professor?" 

Harry chuckled, awkwardly. "We work together. Remember? I told you I taught at the school," Alex prompted, cheeks flushing. "Let him through, please, Andie." 

The woman stepped aside, letting the whitelighter through. He placed the containers of food on the kitchen counter, retracing back to the front door with his hands clasped behind his back as he actively avoided listening in to their conversation. "You know I hate coming to this little Podunk town, babe. Leave your phone ringing, though. I'll pop in and shake your shingles." Icy gaze turned to appraise him once again, before turning back to the botanist. "See you, Xan." The woman just stomped past Alex at the door, without so much as a backwards glance, leaving the other holding the doorknob and hoping to disappear. It was a full minute before she closed the door and turned back into the room, staring at the floor as she walked. 

"You are shitting me, right?" He asked, narrowing his gaze dangerously. 

"Don't start," she groaned, falling backwards into the sofa. 

" _Shake your shingles?_ You are degree-holding professor in the sciences, not someone's booty call." He argued, heatedly. 

"Don't say _booty call_ , Har…" She wasn't entirely sure how to continue that sentence. 

"She doesn't even remember where you _work_!" 

Alex shrugged. "She's a little fickle, but she's uncomplicated, non-magical, still alive-," she offered, counting down reasons. 

"Need I remind you, you're not strictly alive, either," he contested, shaking his head, disappointedly. "You're better than this." He fell beside her. 

"Am I though?" She asked, sarcastically, tilting her head to look at him. "Plus, you dated Charity Callaghan. You have no right to hold the moral high ground." 

Harry sighed, a face that said she was beating a dead horse stuck to his countenance. "She was a different person, once upon a time." 

"Yeah. _A better liar_ ," she murmured under her breath, kicking off the sofa to poke at the food containers. 

"So, tell me, are you referring to when she purportedly _killed_ your whitelighter?" he started, watching her freeze in her tracks, dropping a fork to the floor, "Where were you when all this apparently happened?" Alex had always held that she did not want to tell him who had killed her whitelighter, in an effort to maintain his objectivity. However, the look in her eyes that morning had said a lot, but, for some reason, he could not bring himself to believe Charity would be party to such a deed. His tone said as much. 

Turning around, she leant against the counter with her arms folded across her chest. "Camouflage spell, hidden in a corner for the longest forty minutes of my life as I watched him bleed out from the wounds left by that Wonder Woman-wannabe lasso of hers. How about you, lover boy?" She riposted, as if they were chatting about the weather. Harry could recognize a bad decision when he made one, and that question was very much a bad decision. 

"I... er...I-I..." 

" _Fuck off_ , Greenwood," Alex shot back, though the phrase didn't have its usual playful tone that looked only to get a rise out of him. "I get that you're on the defensive right now. I do, but this, all of this, is fucking happening to me, too. Maybe, I don't know, _attempt_ to be my friend." 

"I am!" He defended, leaning forward on the sofa cushion, carefully watching as her green eyes glistened with tears for the second time that day. 

Alex growled in frustration. "You could have fooled me!" She roughly wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, smearing what little eye makeup she had applied before the visit of her lover. "You'd rather bring up one of the worse things I've ever gone through, just because you're pissy about a situation I have no control over and the fact I was dating someone you don't like based on a two minute interaction." 

Harry groaned, pressing his fingers to his left temple in barely contained exasperation. "She's shallower than a dry seabed, Alex-" 

Her hands seemed to be strangling an invisible phantom in their rigid, clawed shape. "You. Don't. _Know_. Her." 

"It doesn't take much psychoanalysis to decipher her." 

"And how are you any better?" She interrupted, ruffling her hair almost to the point of pulling it. "I mean, look at us!" She paced the length of her kitchen, gnashing her teeth. She stopped, settling her intense gaze on his. "I was breaking up with her when you arrived, by the way. Because why would anything in my life ever conform to what I wanted?" There was silence as she sniffled, back turned to him, once more. "I don't want to talk to you right now. Can you go?" 

"Alex," he whispered, but she didn't turn. 

Harry teleported to the porch of the girls' house; knowing he could worry about his car, which was currently parked in front of Alex's apartment, later. Letting himself in with his copy of the key, he closed the door behind him and walked straight past Mel and Maggie in the kitchen to throw himself into the overstuffed chair in the living room. His vacant expression stared straight at the wall ahead. Sharing looks of concern, the sisters leapt from their chairs, and rushed the living space to stand around him. 

"Ladies," he said, glancing shortly at their forms. "Do, er," he cleared his throat, "do you mind going to Alex's, Maggie?" 

Maggie crossed her arms and scowled. "What did you do?" Her tone sounded like she was speaking to a misbehaving dog rather than her whitelighter. 

"Nothing," he answered. "Everything," he amended. "Just, please…" The empath turned tail and grabbed her keys before rushing out the door. 

Mel had that disappointed mother look on her face when she sat across from him on the coffee table. "I don't want to kick an old man's ass, but I will, Harry Greenwood." A lone chuckle escaped him and she laid her hand on his. "How bad did you screw up?" 

"Think Parker, but worse," he responded, his voice sounding strained. 

"Dude, how? That girl is basically a golden retriever with a penchant for swearing," she admonished, slapping his shoulder hard enough to make him groan and rub the sore spot with his opposite hand. 

"You know that one thing you told me never to bring up?" He sighed. "I brought it up." 

The time witch's eyes fell closed. "And you're a dumb man and a failing memory. Gotcha." She hit him again, but this time he didn't have the energy to complain. "That's messed up. If you told her LG was secretly a demon that tried to kill you, she'd murder him on the spot and make you a scarf with his fur." 

"I'm a shit friend. I get it," he remarked. 

"No, you're worse. You're the only reason she stayed in Hilltowne and then you pull that shit," Mel accused him, a fire burning in her eyes. Harry thought he had finally gone numb, but a dull ache was spreading through his chest at a leisurely pace, tearing at his insides like hot knives. "If she doesn't have you, she doesn't have us; if she doesn't have us, she doesn't have anyone, you prick." The whitelighter crossed his arms, folding his limbs into himself and pressing into the couch cushions. The emotion gripping his chest felt foreign and confusing, but it enveloped him completely in a sense of despair and self-loathing. Mel's disappointed expression continued to bore holes into him when her cell phone buzzed in her pocket, and she raised it to her ear with a frown. "Yeah?" There was quick chatter from the other side of the line. "Thanks, Maggie. Perfect. See you in a few." 

"How is she?" The question was barely a whisper. 

"Upset and attempting to pack," she replied, putting the phone down with a sigh. "Maggie dosed her with something and managed to convince her to get into the car. They're on their way." 

"I'll go, then," he decided, wiping his dampened eyes with his shirt sleeves. 

"No, you're staying and fixing this even if it takes you the rest of your immortal life," she ordered, pushing him back down into a sitting position when he attempted to scramble out. "I'm not kidding. I will stab you in the eyes, if you try to move." They sat in loaded silence for a while, until the front door opened and Maggie dragged a reluctant Alex behind her. 

"Nope. Didn't sign up for this," the botanist said, just as she had crossed the threshold, doubling back with an anxious pace. "Maggie, no. _No me voy a sentar a hablar con él. No quiero verlo…_ " Harry couldn't understand what Alex was saying, especially when her words were so quick coming out of her mouth, but he was hearing an awful lot of _no_ , which sounded about right. He didn't want to deal with himself, either, if he was being honest. " _No es justo!_ " 

"Babe, fair has got nothing to do with it," Maggie whispered, rubbing her back gently and subtly moving her forward into the living room and nodding to Mel to leave. 

Retreating a few steps, they sprinkled a mixture of herbs on the doorway to create a barrier. They weren't going anywhere. Alex snapped her fingers, repetitively, doing her utmost to concentrate on the feeling of her apartment, just as Harry had taught her, in an effort to minimize her erroneous travels, but she was not budging a single inch. 

"The spells to stop the Elders also stops teleporting and orbing," Harry whispered, clearing his throat, gently. He stood from his place and walked to the other corner of the room, looking dejected. The weight of Alex's gaze nearly made his knees buckle and the prickle of pain in his chest became a sharp, pulsing stabbing. For a moment, it looked like she wanted to cross the room towards him, but she thought better of it, at the last second. Instead, she sat along the far wall, knees pulled up to her chest as she tried to make herself as inconspicuous as possible. "I know you don't want to talk to me-" 

" _Si ya lo sabes, para qué carajos me hablas?_ " Her words were slightly muffled by her head hiding behind her knees. 

"Don't know what that means, but it sounds justified," he continued, staring at the wall just behind her. 

She scoffed. " _Justificado va a estar cuando yo te parta la cara por estúpido_." 

He sighed. "That was _definitely_ justified." With his hands in his pockets, he crossed the room, sitting down on his heels in front of her. "There's no way to excuse myself. I can only tell you that it was misguided." Alex didn't say anything, but he did notice her glance shortly at him. "First and foremost, I know that on the best of days you and I's conversations never go well when they involve… that person." He inhaled deeply, blowing the air out slowly out of his mouth before convincing himself to continue. They had argued about the Elder before, but this was the first time he had pulled the subject of Rob's death out of the closet to air. He couldn't even explain why he thought it was a good move, now. "It seems I had a son before I died." Her face tilted up, brow furrowed and inquisitive. "And I know well of things she's done that aren't... but, she… gave me some information about him and I guess that blind trust was the only thing driving my hope that she wasn't bluffing." 

"Was she?" 

Harry shook his head and shrugged. "I don't know. Admittedly, looking back, it wasn't much to go off." 

Scratching at her knee, the woman shrugged, as well. "I can help..." 

The three words pierced his heart, breaking whatever protections he had managed to build around his emotions. He wanted to get on his knees and plead for forgiveness. Angry at his fickle sense of control around anything that concerned her, he chuckled disbelievingly. "You're meant to be livid with me, Alex." 

"It feels like a waste of energy, at this point," she said simply, looking defeated. "It's fine, Harry." 

"It's not. It's _really_ not." Harry jumped at the sudden contact of her hand on his face, brushing the pads of her fingers to sweep tears he was unaware he did not shed. "About, _Andie_ , was it?" Alex worried her bottom lip with her teeth before nodding. "I don't know why it bothered me. I guess I always imagined you with someone who didn't just see you as-" 

"Free orgasms?" 

He closed his eyes and sighed. "I know you're just trying to put me off so I'll drop the subject." When he reopened, he caught the faint twitch of a blossoming smirk that she immediately repressed. "It is none of my business, but you need someone who remembers where the fuck you work and doesn't call you _Xan_ like some pseudoartist who calls their parents by their first name. You know what I mean?" 

Stretching her legs in front of her, she took a deep breath. "Does anyone, Harry?" 

There was a sense of defeat looming within him. He knew this whole conversation would wear down on him for some time to come. "I'm sorry all this is happening to you. I'm sure this wasn't the life your family wanted you to live." With a tired groan, he shifted and sat beside her with his back against the wall. 

Alex immediately tilted sideways, putting her head on Harry's shoulder as they both stared into the distance. "They should have told me everything instead of leaving me with no clue, on the run, and with an idiot for company." She sighed. "You're the idiot, by the way." 

"I deserve that." 

"Yeah, you do." She fidgeted briefly before adding. "You hurt my feelings. I'd never deliberately hurt you." 

The whitelighter inhaled deeply and defiantly blinked away the rush of tears. This feeling was worse than Tartarus. It was the fact that he felt his own shame and anger and sadness muddling with the sadness that radiated off her warm form and magnified his own. "I know. I'm sorry." 

"And I'm pissed because I know you're upset and I don't want you to be, but that gets in the way of me wanting to strangle you." He swallowed down any defenses he might have attempted, only thinking of staring dutifully ahead. "Are you OK?" 

"No. You're not, so I can't be, either," he explained, parting his gaze with the wall just long enough to glance down at her head resting on him before he managed to will his arm to drape around her shoulders. 

Their emotions had them going in circles. At the end of the day, though they were very different people with very different approaches to life, they knew they were each other's friends. They were also just bleeding hearts that didn't want the other to be sad or uncomfortable. Stewing in their tumultuous emotions, they sat in silence for a long while. Eventually they moved their pity party onto the sofa in the same forlorn absence of noise, waiting for the sisters to release them from their incarceration. 

Alex passed out soon after, draped in what looked to be an impossible position, her breath deep and even. Harry sat watching from the armchair, a feeble smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. With every inhale, a pattern of flowers, leaves and vines wove itself around her arms, neck, legs, torso- everywhere, decorating every inch of skin in some sort of greenery. With every exhale the plants wilted and disappeared before the cycle started up, all over again. He wondered if she knew that she did that. The discovery was bittersweet. This moment felt all too special to be shared with someone undeserving, and he most definitely felt he was. Macy, who had arrived a little earlier from a date with Galvin, opened the barrier and silently tiptoed into the living room, having had an update on the whole evening's events from Maggie. 

"How's it going?" She asked in a whisper, much calmer than Mel had been with him, smiling sadly. 

"Oh, this whole day has been a disaster," he retorted, lowly. "And, then, this started happening," he commented with a smile as he nodded at Alex's sleeping form. 

Macy's eyes widened, her whole expression filling with the curiosity that made her a good scientist. "Oh, wow. That is _in_ sane." There was silence as they watched lilies and peonies flutter in and out of existence. "You took a picture, right?" 

"A dozen. Oddly soothing and fascinating." The witch nudged him gently in the ribs and sent a teasing grin his way. "That is definitely not how _any_ of this is going." 

She patted him gently on the back, encouragingly, prompting a tight-lipped smile of him. "Show her your favorite. Maybe it'll endear her to you in the morning." With a one-handed hug, she extracted a sigh from his frowning body. "I'm going to bed, OK?" 

"Yeah. Good night, Macy." He gave a single wave to the young woman as she went up the stairs before looking back at Alex and her peaceful slumber. Briefly, he brushed hair off of her forehead with a gentle touch, and the next breath exploded in bright, fragrant lavender stalks.


	14. Do not engage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't mind me, I just sort of went on a writing bender and I think I'll be posting a couple of chapters today. Enjoy!

The morning light streamed through the curtained windows of the modestly furnished bedroom. That was not, however, what woke Harry Greenwood from mildly peaceful slumber. The gentle, constant purring and the tufted paw that insisted on poking at his cheek was what pulled him away from the land of dreams. That, and the fact that he did not own a cat. Blinking awake, he stared down the ebony snout into the ochre eyes of the intrepid Lemongrass, letting Harry know that, firstly, Alex was in his condo, and, secondly, the kitten had absolutely no boundaries. As if on cue, the beast gave a half-mewl, causing the whitelighter to smile. The animal had not learned how to properly meow or did not have the capacity to actually do it, so the small catty yips and purrs was all he did in the order of noise. It was surprisingly endearing. 

"Good morning. Did I wake up early or is your mum running late?" He questioned, voice rough with sleep as he shuffled to a sitting position, holding the kitten to him. 

The feline purred, rubbing its face with his in contentment. Ever since he had decided to be, and he quoted Mel, _a dick_ , a wound had formed within their friendship. It had started with a few days of silence, but their mutual connection with the Charmed ones meant they could not remain away from each other for long. Despite their rift, she was still in his flat, five times a week, cleaning (there had been what he thought was a selfless offer of help that on second look was the teensiest bit sexist and might have been misconstrued). However, she had decided that she would come insanely early or when she knew he would be otherwise engaged. Whenever they _did_ cross paths, there was always a generic friendly smile and a pleasant greeting. 

He sort of hoped that she would toss the occasional joke at his expense, but it had been of no use. Harry would only admit it under extreme duress, but he sorely _missed_ the friend he had in Alex. What was worse was that he could always tell when she had been in; there was a tingle in the air, the passing smell of lavender and he would realize everything had been turned over by her hand. Blowing out a breath out his mouth, he knew he was being ridiculous, so he rearranged the cat with a huff and whispered. "Come on, you mangy beast." 

Padding quietly on the carpet, he exited the bedroom into the bedroom. The condo was sparkling, as it always was with Alex's touch, and the floramancer was whispering sharply, calling out the cat's name as she looked under tables, chairs and sofas. " _Lemongrass Greenwood Figueroa, I swear that I will take away all of your toys!_ " The kitten gave an indignant yip, arguing that it was not _his_ fault the two were fighting. With a yelp of surprise, she started, knocking her head on the edge of the table as she rushed to get to her feet. With a hiss of pain, she rubbed at an aching spot in her head, looking fidgety in her grey sweat pants and bright yellow t-shirt at having been discovered. "I told you not to go waking him," she remarked, scolding the cat before giving Harry an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that." 

"He's a baby cat, Alex," he replied with a smile, scratching the kitten under the chin. 

"I know that, Greenwood." Both cat and whitelighter tilted their head at her in recognition of the name. Sighing, she reached out for Lemongrass, "I'll take him off your hands," she said softly. 

Harry was quick to step back, stroking the black fur and entrancing the kitten in his arms. "No, no, he seems to be happy where he is." 

Alex looked at him, deadpan. "You don't like him." 

"No, I don't like when he runs like a maniac and destroys things. That's different," he explained, carrying the feline into the kitchen where he put the kettle on to prepare some tea for them. As he busied himself with retrieving items, Harry allowed the kitten to scale up his shoulder, using his little claws into the fabric of his black t-shirt to drape himself across the back of his neck while he worked with a bowed head. 

"You're right. That looks _way_ more comfortable than me just taking the cat." 

He cast a sidelong glance at her, smirking at the quip. "What is it they say about sarcasm? Something about it being the lowest form of wit," he punctuated the 't' sound in _wit_ , his hands packing tea into two strainers and placing them atop two teacups. 

"I thought _lowest form of wit_ was your nickname at the department," she riposted after a second of silence. Peeking out of the corner of his eye, he could see her smiling, leaning against the doorway. 

"Har har," he shot back, pouring hot water and letting the tea steep before carefully turning to place a cup of tea on the island for her while keeping balance of the kitten. He clicked with his tongue, catching the attention of the cat, who promptly shuffled across his shoulders and slid down the front until he landed back into Harry's crooked arm and nestled into the space there. "Hungry, you menace?" There was a small kitten noise in response, and he put the cat down and pulled open a cupboard under the island, fishing a small bowl and a tin of food. The cat curled around his legs and bumped his hands as he emptied the tin and placed the bowl on the floor. 

When he turned back, Alex was starting at him over a sip of tea ad quickly gestured at him with a forefinger. "What's all this? What's going on?" 

Smiling, he took another sip of his rapidly cooling tea. "What do you mean?" 

"You have cat food." She was still absently rubbing where she had bumped her head. 

He wanted to laugh at the clearly confused expression in her inquisitive gaze. "Well spotted, Sherlock." Putting down his tea, he gestured her over. "Let me see that bump." For lack a good response, Alex reluctantly walked forward, stepping closer than she had been from him in a week, and bowing her head to him. Wiping his hands on the flannel bottoms of his pajamas, he reached up, brushing his fingers through her slightly damp curls to find the welt. "Lemongrass gets antsy and scratches at the door because he's hungry and knows I'll wake up. I feed him when you're in the study," he admitted, quietly. "There we are. You really knocked your head, there," he said, trying to move away from the topic. Placing his hand over the bump, he felt energy well inside him and slowly seep through his fingers and onto the wound. 

"Oh, that itches," she groaned, raising her right hand to the welt to scratch at her scalp. 

Harry was quick to catch her wrist. "That is _new_ skin. Do you mind giving it a minute and a half before you scratch it off?" He was still holding her wrist when she looked up, her eyes wide and bright, where they locked with his. 

"I...er... do you mind?" She asked, sliding her eyes to her wrist and back. After a second's worth of a vacant stare, he released her wrist, his fingers brushing against her skin as they retreated. "You're always in my space," she added, making a show of rolling her eyes and smoothing out her clothes. However, they were still within a foot of each other, close enough for him to catch the scent of flowers. "You're such a weirdo." He didn't respond, instead, he smiled, and took a step backwards allowing her the space that she likely yearned for. "But that's kind of nice, I guess." 

"I've been told that I indeed have the capacity, on occasion." Tapping his foot anxiously, he glanced over at the kitten who was happily licking his chops after a meal. "Are you hungry?" He asked the owner, rocking up and down on his tip toes. 

Alex looked unsure of herself, sticking her hands into the pockets of her joggers. "Oh. I have class in a bit, so I have to go change and head to the University." 

"Yes, of course. Right." 

"I'm just going to grab the little guy and, um, head out," she said shortly, forcing a smile onto her face and nodding decisively. "I'll see you later, Harry." Bending down to grab a protesting Lemongrass, turning to give him a little wave before leaving the flat. As soon as the door closed, Harry let out a sigh. The front door creaked open once more, and Alex poked her head in. "Hey, loser. How about lunch?" With a wide grin, he nodded, and she disappeared once more. The interaction had not been much, but it was progress, he guessed.


	15. Charlie foxtrot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just a writer, sitting in front of a computer, asking it to record my every word. *cue lone tear* Part of the writing bender. One more to go.

The midterm essays were just as terrible as the first papers the students had inked for the freshman Women's studies course. The red pen in his hand marked a warpath up and down the trenches between the lagging, nonsensical words. The only sound, other than the muted murmurs coming from the hallway, was the sound of his pen scratching at paper. That was, until, a knock on his door pulled at his attention. Brown eyes pulled away from the sheet and to the doorway, fully expecting to find his friend, dressed like destitute graduate student, despite being on the list for a tenured position. Instead, it was surprised to see a smiling Charity, leaning against the door frame and watching him work. 

"Charity, to what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked, pleasantly, eyes crinkling at the corners with a smile, rising from his seat and gesturing her to enter. 

In her crisp white jumpsuit, she strode in and daintily sat in one of the weathered wooden chairs across from his desk, crossing her legs and settling down in a measured pose. "Well, this is how we have to resort to communicate with all of you, seeing as we've been banned from the house." 

"I didn't realize your cell phone was not working," he replied, sarcastically, though he was smiling politely. "I certainly don't mind catching up like this, however." There was a feeling in his stomach that made him apprehensive of the woman. It was new to him but, for some reason, it didn't feel _wrong_. 

"I don't appreciate their bullheaded ways, Harry," she said with an air of concern. "The world isn't as black and white as they think, and being this obstinate is going to get them _killed_ ," she continued, looking down at her hands. Harry swallowed some well-deserved rage, turning his face into a mask of plain unfeeling. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure darken the doorway. Glancing briefly at Alex in her t-shirt and overalls, he shook his head minutely, and hoped that she would be able to leave. 

Thankfully, she backed out quietly and turned down the hall, before Charity had noticed the movement. "Tea?" 

"Oh, yes, please." She smiled brightly, watching Harry stand and turn to flick on the electric kettle in the corner of the office. 

He made a farce of fixing the position of the plants on the bookshelf as the water boiled. "Hide," he said barely in a whisper, watching the leaves rustle and vibrate, before taking two mugs and placing a teabag in each. His phone buzzed in his pocket. Fishing it out, he scrolled into his text messages to see Alex's contact and the message _More of them searching campus. C is distraction._ Making a point of releasing a bored sigh, he muttered, "Graduate students. I swear," looking to Charity to get a chuckle of understanding before he quickly typed out a reply. " _My bathroom. Lock and key._ " Pouring the boiling water into the mugs, he made a point to steep them at a leisurely pace and added the requisite amount of sugar for each. "Here we are." 

"You've redecorated your office. You seem to have quite the green thumb, Harry." 

He waved away the compliment, looking pleased with himself. "It boils down to getting plants that can deal with gross mistreatment," he laughed. "So, what can I do for you?" 

Sipping delicately from her own tea, she sighed contentedly. "I'll get to the point, then. I think the S'arcana are housing romancers and they are killing Elders." 

Harry breathed, leaning back in his chair with a frown. "What interest do romancers have in the Elders? Necromancers are the only ones of concern, and they are all being monitored." He sipped tea, shrugging. "Besides, the rest of them have been almost entirely culled to the point of near eradication." 

Her face fell out of its pleasant façade. "It's the nature of their existence that poses the biggest threats. They are not meant to exist." 

"Their nature?" He hummed to himself. "Funny. I don't remember you saying that the first time I kissed you," he quipped, smirking over his mug. His phone buzzed, again. _Your place was searched._ "Do you want to tell me why you had my flat searched?" His tone was no longer playful, but rather, empty. 

"We both know there's something going on that you're not telling me." 

He scoffed. "So, you admit you broke into my condo?" 

"I do what is necessary," she said, as if a heavy load was assaulting her. 

"Harry, the entire campus is crawling with… what the hell is she doing here?" Macy pulled both of their attention as she crossed the doorway. 

Standing, he walked to the door and ushered her out of the room. "Macy, go get all of your sisters and go home," he prompted, making sure to put an emphasis on the word _all_ , holding her gaze intently. The telekinetic witch looked like she had several grounds on which to protest. Staring at each other for a hot minute, she nodded, casting one last dirty look at Charity before she left. "It is against protocol to hold a Crusade among mortal humans. It is _immoral_ to attempt to follow through with your false sense of justice by stonewalling a whitelighter only looking to protect his charges. The Keepers would destroy you where you stand, if they knew." His cheeks were flushed and his scowl left little space for doubt that he was entirely too serious. "Call off your dogs." 

"If the girls are here, how you do know your condo was searched?" Charity challenged ignoring his annoyance, still sitting statuesquely in her place. The professor did not answer, instead stood with folded arms against the thin strip of wall by the door, staring daggers at her. With a sigh, she stood and closed the distance between them, raising a hand and placing it on his chest. Harry stared straight ahead, his whole body tense, jaw clenched immediately at the contact. "I know this isn't your fault, but I need you to help me here." The hand traveled from his chest to his cheek, and rubbed her thumb over her cheek. "I know you want to do the right thing." Leaning towards him, she craned her neck to reach up and kiss him. 

Turning his head, he watched the Elder awkwardly step away from him, smoothing down her suit in well-practiced strokes attempting to pass the rejection as an expected move. "Terribly convenient to ignore your own rules." 

"I'm not looking to destroy our way of life. We're not monsters," she whispered, reaching for his hand with a soft smile. "Harry, please. Help me and I will make sure the girls are OK. _We'll_ be OK." 

Harry chuckled, rolling his eyes before gently removing his hand from her grip. "Once upon a time, maybe...," he explained, putting his hands in his pockets. "I don't know what has happened to you. Needless to say, my loyalties lie with the council, and my charges." 

"You're going to regret this, Harry. Don't you see that?" She urged, looking critical. "Who are you protecting?" 

The Brit rolled his eyes, leveling an annoyed look at the Elder witch. "Oh, my housekeeper. She's a floramancer, haven't you heard?" His right hand gestured her towards the door. Charity stared flabbergasted for a minute before letting out a scoff and marching out the door. 

Releasing a breath that he had not been aware he was holding, Harry doubled over, leaning on his knees while he settled the rhythm of his heart. There was a long stretch of silence, when only his brief panting could be heard, before he righted himself and turned his brown eyes just beyond the door. "I told you to hide, you fool," he quipped in a low voice. The air shimmered for several moments before Alex appeared in the space. In a dizzying blur, Harry found himself nearly strangled, arms wrapped around his neck, and the woman clinging tightly to him. After weeks of tepid interactions, at best, it took the whitelighter a moment to realize what was happening and to respond by offering an embrace of his own. "I told you to lock yourself in my washroom," he argued, gently, his voice wavering. "Don't you ever listen?" 

"Have you met me?" Alex answered, her voice just as soft. "Don't you think she'll look into your housekeeper?" 

"No. I was hiding in plain sight," he riposted, cheekily. "I think you taught me that." He held her at arm's length, brushing her hair back and stroking her cheek with unprecedented gentleness. "Any problems?" 

"No. I left your condo the second I got there. They tossed the whole thing. I came straight here," she sighed, leaning into the warmth of his hand. "I don't appreciate that every experience with camouflage spells are linked to that woman." 

Her hands had migrated from his neck and down his chest to rest on his sides. She ducked her head onto his chest, causing a chortle to rumble his chest and vibrated through her. Pressing a kiss to her crown, he smoothed a hand down her back. "I've missed you." He might as well admit it, as his heart was probably drumming as if part of a heavy metal band. 

"I've seen you every day." 

"Perhaps," he agreed, "but it's been a lifetime since you've been relieved to see me." He felt her nod, and for a second the wayward thought that he could have spent an eternity just in this position flooded his mind. It wasn't the first time he had found himself enjoying the warmth of her just nearby, never mind flush against him. He was never one for ridiculous shows of affection or the constant need for reassurance that the other was still there, but he definitely didn't mind this. Alex was much more of a physical person, but it didn't seem like she minded it, either. 

Clearing her throat, Alex righted herself. She reluctantly took a step backwards, her expression sheepish. "Sorry about that," she regained her composure. "Class. I have a class. See you." 

"Alex," he called, and the botanist turned to look, "I'll see you for dinner, right?" 

"Yeah, probably. I might have some grading to do, though. So, er... yeah. Bye." She looked like she wanted to say something else when she caught sight of Harry's disappointed face, but a quick readjustment from his part, and she waved with a smile and scuttled down the hallway. 

His smile fell immediately when she was gone. "Fuck."


	16. Friendly chatter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last of the bender. Entirely fluff, so, yeah...

Death held his heart in its icy grip, forcing it to beat far quicker than he ever thought it could bear. Sitting up in bed, drenched in sweat, he believed that his heart was going to give out in a second. To be honest, he would not complain if this was the moment in which he met his maker (again). The Universe had been beating down on him the last two weeks or so, not counting the fact that he currently had three charges who were, for some reason, still livid at him, and another who had become a master of not caring about whether or not he was around. It didn't help him that the four had become fast friends, and he had walked into the house midway through a slumber party one too many times, only to face a suddenly quiet crowd. He was not used to being the pariah. 

Harry raised the hem of his t-shirt to wipe away at his face. He was still panting, his chest still tight from the anxiety attack following the nightmare, though he was starting to come down. He had been doing so well for such a long time, but his newly rekindled waking anxiety had leeched into his dreams, once more. He now went to bed tired, woke up exhausted, and dreaded repeating the process, day in-day out. On his bedside, the peace lily rustled obstinately, alerting him of its observation. 

He held a pointed finger at the greenery, baring his teeth in threat. "Don't you do it. Don't wake her-" The sound of his mobile buzzing caused him to groan and grab a pillow that he violently thrashed before tossing it across the room. The phone call timed out and a moment went by before the buzzing resumed. He pressed the call button and raised the device to his ear. "I told him not to wake you." 

Alex's sleepy voice came through the other side. "Him?" 

For a moment, he felt awful that the sound of her voice, though clearly would rather be back in slumber, was soothing. "Him. They. It. Does it really matter? It's a plant and I said not to alert you." 

"They don't answer to you, Greenwood," she retorted after a minute of silence. 

"Yes, I know. I just didn't want to wake you for something as mundane as a nightmare," he admitted, his voice a low rumble. 

"Are you-" 

"I'm really fine. Go back to sleep, Alex. Really." His skin felt like it was crawling, and he kicked off the covers to try the minimize the sensation. He felt like he was going to be sick. 

He sat in silence with only her gentle breathing on the other line for a full three minutes. "I'll be there in a minute." 

"Alex, I-" The line cut out before he could get the full complaint out of his lungs. And so he sat in bed, his whole body feeling foreign to him before he heard a faint pop in the kitchen, followed by the gentle padding of her feet on the floor. 

The door creaked open, and her form filled the doorway in a sweater that seemed swallow her already small form and some pajama shorts. Her hair was mussed and sticking out in odd directions in a way that made him almost want to chuckle. The door clicked gently behind her and reluctantly she reached his bedside. The whitelighter scooted over in bed, watching intently as she sat down on the edge and reached out to touch his forehead, the smell of lavender filling his nose in a bittersweet reminder of who she was. "You have a fever, Har." 

"Sorry." 

The will to smirk outranked her desire to remain emotionless at his bedside. "For having a fever?" 

He started his sentence a few times, before disappointingly saying, "I guess." 

With a hushed giggle, she withdrew her hand and nodded decisively. "I'll be right back. OK?" A vacant nod was his only response as she hopped to her feet and scuttled out the door. The faint sounds of a mess being made in his kitchen tickled at his ears before she returned a moment later, with a glass of water and something in her right hand. 

Gesturing for him to reach, she deposited two small objects that he stared at with apprehension. "Chalk?" 

A peel of laughter made her shake, nearly spilling water all over the floor and his bedspread with the movement. "It's aspirin, you dork. Not everything is healing oils and tea leaves." Thankful for the darkened room to hide his blushing face, he tossed back the pills and took the glass of water from the witch and chased them with a cool sip. "Drink all your water. I think you're a little dehydrated, too." Trying not to feel like a schoolchild, he drained the glass, letting it clink onto his bedside table when he was done. 

"I could've fetched aspirin on my own." 

"I think," she said lightly, sitting back down at the edge of the bed, "what you meant to say was _thank you_." The scolding tone was secondary to her evaluation on whether or not he was alright. Her fingers traced the puffy bags under his eyes from one-too-many sleepless nights and the matted down hair from nightmarish cold sweats. 

He had to constrain himself when she grazed a scar on his cheekbone from months ago, denying himself the opportunity to press his cheek harder against her nimble fingers. Harry could've sworn that he didn't used to be so pathetic. "Thank you." 

"You're welcome. Go take a shower and shake it off, OK?" 

Harry fully expected her to be gone by the time he had stumbled out of the shower with a fresh pair of nightclothes. Instead, he found that his covers had been changed, there was a full glass of water on his bedside, his reading lamp was on, and she was sat cross-legged on the foot of the bed with a book from his study. 

With an easy smile, he strode back to bed, watching as she reset her position to allow him to pull the covers over himself and huddle into their warmth. "Aren't you cold?" 

"That's pretty much my constant state, here on the mainland." She looked at him over her book with a smirk. "God forbid I touch your thermostat, though." There was simplicity in her joking manner and the automatic response of him rolling his eyes that made his rather sheepish invitation of pulling down the covers and gesturing with his head feel a little less awkward. "Professor Greenwood, you cad! I should report you to HR," she declared in a mock gasp, leaving the man in question to attempt to sigh in exasperation. Keeping her place in the book with a finger, she shuffled over and slipped her legs under the warmth of the covers. Furrowing her brown in concern, she chided. "You're exhausted. Go to sleep, Har." He tried to argue, but her eyes turned pleading and, for some reason, he failed to find a reason not to comply. 

Settling onto his back, he pulled the covers up to his neck, hyperaware of the fact that if he looked a few inches to his left, he would encounter her legs. Clenching his jaw, he closed his eyes and tried to force himself into slumber, but the gentle rustling of a page turning and the unfamiliar warmth beside him made it nearly impossible to catch a wink. Amidst his internal debate, a set of digits tangled themselves into his hair. As they drew small circles onto his scalp, the whitelighter released a long breath, his whole body releasing its tension like an unwinding coil. It was barely three minutes before he completely disconnected from the world. 

He inhaled sharply as he suddenly woke what seemed like an eternity later, his body feeling amazingly light. Humming deep in his throat, he tugged at his pillow in an attempt to catch an extra five minutes. A knobby knee knocked him in the jaw, and that was the only motivation he needed to fully wake up. Following the line of her legs, he encountered Alex sitting slightly askew, head lolled to the side and book long forgotten beside her. He glanced at the clock beside the bed, noting that it was far too early to be doing much of anything, and he felt guilty that she had subjected herself to such an uncomfortable position for the sake of keeping him company. Half sitting up, he cleared the book from the bed and pulled the covers further, before hooking his arm under her legs and her back and placing her in what he hoped was a more comfortable position. 

Alex barely stirred with the movement, whimpering quietly before turning on her side, a slew of petals and leaves blowing up into the air with the shift. Harry draped the blanket over her form, watching the flowers appear and disappear for a few moments. Should he go back to sleep? Should he leave? Should he probably not consider his options while staring rather intensely at her? Should he stop thinking of the fact that his bedsheets will smell of lavender now? Whatever the answers to those conundrums were, he _knew_ he should remove the hand resting on the small of her back and not just to have it migrate to her hip, as it had. His traitorous body, however, had seemingly frozen in place and his right hand remained glued in a way that made him think the two had locked together, considering how well they fit. 

_This is definitely weird,_ he thought, deciding he would get out of bed, altogether. He shuffled backward, flipping over to plant his feet on the carpeted floor before a hand caught him by the wrist, almost making him jump out of his skin. 

"No, you're keeping the bed warm!" She grumbled, sounding you, innocent and still most definitely asleep, tugging him back towards her with her eyes closed. "Stay." Alex pulled him past her personal bubble, nary a few inches between them and wiggled her way into having her forehead resting onto his chest. His right hand had wandered back onto her side, observing with fascination as vines crept up his arm where it came in contact with her, as if a continuation of her being. Despite the fact that somewhere in the back of his mind he reminded himself that they'd been basically strong-armed by fate, he thought this was a pretty neat trick and felt oddly special to be a part of it. For several minutes, he watched the patterns change, the flowers bloom and wilt before he fell asleep again. 

Harry woke again a few hours later. He stretched languidly while he yawned, slightly disappointed that his bed was empty, save for smell of lavender that now rubbed off on his skin, in addition to the sheets. Rolling out of bed, he stopped by the washroom before strolling out to the kitchen. Alex was still in her pajamas, headphones in, dancing along to some unheard music pumping out of her phone while she made breakfast surprisingly quietly. He watched from the hallway as she swayed, bedhead becoming even more chaotic while she kept to the rhythm. His brown eyes locked on the creeping vine hanging eye-level, before they slid to her and back. It was not even a second before Alex was pulling the buds out of her ears and turning around with a wide grin. He would honestly never tire of how reliable these plants were. 

"Good! You're up," she remarked, beaming. "Tea's on the counter," she gestured over her shoulder at the kitchen island where two cups of tea steamed dutifully awaiting to be sipped. Not bothering with resting on the stools, he took one of the cups and swigged, uncaring about the burning sear going down his throat. She was back at the stove, switching off burners and placing food onto a large platter beside her. With a final flourish, she grabbed a couple of forks from the cutlery drawer and hefted the platter, parking it in front of the whitelighter. A full English breakfast of momentous size stared back at him, and before he could question why there was so much food on a single plate, she had hopped onto the island (a few false starts had been required) and handed him one of the two forks. "I don't want to do extra dishes, today," she said by way of explanation as she stared down at his curious demeanor. "Eat, it'll get cold," she added, promptly spearing a grilled tomato with her fork. 

Tilting his head, Harry stared at the plate. "Did you make mashed potatoes just for-" 

"Yep," she interrupted, stuffing half a piece of bacon in her mouth and chasing it with tea. "You said bubble and squeak was the one thing that could make or break a breakfast, so, clearly you're fond." For a moment he watched her take an inquisitive gaze over her. "What?" 

He chewed thoughtfully on a mouthful of mushrooms and baked beans. "I'm upset that this tastes better than mine." 

"Anything you can do, I can do better," she sang, winking teasingly at him. 

"Or so you keep reminding me," he acknowledged with a chuckle. Putting his fork down, he reached up to attempt to smooth down her hair into anything that vaguely resembled what it usually looked like, to no avail. 

Alex leaned down, despite knowing it was of no use. "Forget it. It's a lost cause until I take a shower." 

"Maybe not even then," he riposted, earning him a faux glare. "You're beautiful, regardless." He had not noticed the words slip his mental filter until they were heard by his own ears. He was, however, rewarded by an unusual sight: Alex turning bright pink at the ears while she pushed a piece of sausage around the platter. 

"Thanks, Har." The reserved, shy tone of her voice was such an odd change of pace from her usual blunt, joking, albeit sweet, manner that he felt like he deserved a prize. 

"May I ask you a question?" She nodded, silently, gnawing on the end of a piece of buttered toast. "Why... er-" 

"Did I come over last night?" Harry nodded, leaning on his elbows on the counter and looking up at her with propped chin. "Holding grudges requires a longer attention span than I'm willing to devote, and, despite everything, you never failed to have my back, when it mattered." She laughed. "Isn't that wild? From a threat that you didn't think was legitimate, just because you knew I was uncomfortable. You, on the other hand, just couldn't sleep. I'd be an awful friend if I couldn't muster the sympathy to drop by." 

"I wouldn't say that I don't think it's legitimate-" Alex clamped her hand over his mouth. Harry silently thanked her, for he could already see his mouth running away from him. 

"And, if only, I could teach you when to _shut the fuck up_ , you'd be perfect," she declared with a wry laugh, resting the fork beside her. 

Pulling her hand down with his own, he countered. "You'd be bored with _perfect_." 

"Maybe. I'd've probably lived longer, though," she volleyed instantly after, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth to hide a smirk, tracking his every move through the lashes protecting her green eyes. 

"And you would have _hated_ every second." His tone had lowered, and Harry found himself straightening up to his full height, nearly eye level with the now grinning imp. Clutching a handful of the navy blue t-shirt he had on, she gave a tug, swallowing the yelp of surprise that escaped him by crashing her lips onto his. It was a second before his brain caught up to whatever was happening, but once it did, he wasted no time curling his fingers though her short hair and pulling her closer by the waist.


	17. Live combat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know about you guys, but that last episode broke my heart!

It had been a harrowing day, that was for sure. Between not being able to respond to distress calls and getting stuck in Manchester, of all bloody places on Earth, he had to deal with the fact that he could never make it up to his son the way he envisioned. Not to mention, Mel had had to bear the brunt of his changing mood, from his initial desire to leave the Charmed Ones, to having to explain the grueling details of his time in Tartarus. And, now, there he was, on the front porch, crying like an idiot, while that same charge hugged him consolingly. At least his powers seemed to be a little less _on the fritz_ , as Alex so kindly referred it as. 

The front door slammed open and Maggie and Alex both barreled out, heaving relieved sighs at seeing both witch and whitelighter in one piece, considering the day they had. Mel had released Harry in order to respond to the crushing embrace that Maggie had inflicted upon her, murmuring words too quick for the older sister to catch. Harry roughly wiped at his eyes, doing his best to look like nothing was amiss when Alex came to stand before him. Her dress had a rip on the left side of the skirt, and there was a set of cuts on her right orbital bone, covered in bandages that caused alarm in him. What was the most striking however, was the fact that she looked somewhere between livid and close to sobbing in relief as she opened and closed her fists as if trying to prevent punching someone. 

"What happened? Where the fuck have you been?" Alex asked, glancing between Mel and Harry with wide eyes, some indescribable emotion bubbling just under the surface behind all the anger. Eyes not daring meet hers, he raised a hand to peel away at the bandages, only for it to be swatted away by her hand. He fanned his hand, swallowing the hiss of pain from the sharp slap. "Are you two fucking OK or not?" Her tone of voice had elevated to the point that, had she been inquiring about anything other than their safety, he would worried. 

"We're fine, Ally. Just... a very long day," Mel explained, shooting Harry a sympathetic look which he replied with a watery smile. 

The answer seemed to partially appease the angry botanist enough to allow them all to enter the house. Macy, understandably, had decided she wanted to go to bed early and be alone, while Maggie and Alex were left to fill the other two in about what had happened. 

"It was terrifying, but that's how the necromancer died," Maggie finished the re-telling of the battle in the house, how she had been locked in a bathroom stall, how Parker had, in essence, rescued them, and everything in between. 

Harry sighed, leaning back into the cushions of the sofa, trying to keep the facts straight in his mind. "That's why I said to keep away from necromancers. They're vile creatures; manipulative, dark-" Alex, who had been mostly quiet during the whole retelling, cleared her throat, narrowed gaze on the whitelighter. He felt like his tongue had turned to lead, tripping over itself in an effort to promptly remove the foot he had lodged in his mouth. "Not to say all romancers... I don't think you're... _how did you cut your face, again?_ " 

"Flying mortar to my vile, manipulative, dark face," she replied with a sarcastic smile, picking up Lemongrass who had come to tangle in her legs. 

"She was pulling me out of the way of a sonic ball... thing," Maggie interjected, smiling. "It's kind of nice to have a back-up sorta-whitelighter, I gotta say." She giggled. "And even then, we cut it kind of close." 

"Yeah," Alex started, frowning, "I'm not about that weekly near-homicide life." She batted away Harry's hand for the fifth time in as many minutes. "Will you _desist_?" 

"As soon as you let me take examine the damage," he retorted with a glare. 

"Greenwood, I swear to the elements, if you don't leave me alone-" Alex started to threatened, only to be interrupted by one of the sisters. 

Maggie and her sister exchanged a look, the empath having gleaned enough information from her sister to have a rough idea about what had happened during his and Mel's excursion to Manchester. "Maybe you should let him take a look," she suggested, carefully. "He needs a win, Alex." 

"And, as always, I have no clue what's going on. Cool cool," the floramancer quipped sarcastically. "I think I'll go have a chat with the basil on the windowsill." The three watched her get up from the sofa and strut to the kitchen. As she left, Harry noticed another scratch on her thigh, just visible under her skirt. He sighed, This was going to be hell. While he planned to tell her, in due course, all that had happened in Manchester and why he and Mel were MIA for so long, he knew that he needed to give her a moment to ebb out her anger. Anxiety played a large role in her emotions, and he didn't blame her. She had spent a lifetime in which people she loved would disappear or get in trouble and never come back. The fact that she was so angry only made Harry realize that maybe she was a little fonder of their little motley crew than she would readily admit. The thought made him smile internally. 

Mel scurried off to her room, saying she needed to wash off the teleportation lag off of her, leaving Maggie and Harry in the room. Harry felt in Maggie a kindred spirit, having spent time together in Tartarus had made them close and there was very little that her blunt, but loving words would ever hide. Glancing over at where Alex was working with her plants, Maggie smiled before she turned her attention to Harry. "When she got me out of the way, she miscalculated her teleportation to avoid some shrapnel and that's why she's all cut up. You two had fallen off the grid and I think she could sense something was going on." 

"I didn't plan for this to happen. It just... did," he argued, sighing. His head fell back on the sofa cushions, feeling generally miserable and powerless. 

"I know that, but she's not used to caring, Har. That's not really on you," the witch whispered with a giggle. "I think she sorta likes you," she added in a singsong tone. Harry smirked, his cheeks turning a telltale shade of pink as he looked down at his hands, but Maggie's inquisitive manner missed nothing. She let out a squeal of excitement. "Do my eyes deceive me? Does sweet Meghan Markle have a thing for the fierce Jungle Queen?" 

"Will you keep your voice down?" Harry asked, urgently, sinking in his seat. 

"Oh, Har-bear." Maggie shuffled closer to the whitelighter to give him a hug. "Word on the street is she just broke up with her girlfriend, so she's available." 

"Maggie, I just went through the heart-wrenching episode of watching my adult son fading in old age, so I'm not exactly in the mood. Not that I would ever consider it, anyway. We both know that it's a risky endeavor on all sides," he explained, looking sour, before he frowned, as if realizing something. "Wait, how do you know she's single?" 

"You're such a pragmatist." She sighed. "We talk about things other than demons. You know, like normal people," she replied, deadpan. Glancing over at the kitchen, she returned to her bubbly self. "Why don't you take her home and talk her off the ledge?" 

A groan bubbled in his throat, though he smiled warmly at his charge, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Yeah. I might as well." Leaning over, he placed a brief kiss on her crown and clapped his hands on his thighs, matter-of-factly. "Sleep well, Maggie." He brushed his hand over her cheek, affectionately. "I'm glad you're all safe." The youngest Vera hopped off the sofa and walked upstairs, leaving Harry to stare over his shoulder at the kitchen. With a deep breath, he stood and quietly padded to the other room, hands in his pockets and leaned casually against the doorframe. "I think, perhaps, I should take you home," he said, softly. Alex was leaning, cross-armed over the windowsill, whispering to a basil plant as she often did. "Alexandra." 

"Right. OK," she replied, turning. Though her gaze was on the floor, he could tell she had been wiping at her eyes. Harry bent at the knees, tilting his head to catch her fleeting gaze. "Jesus, can you get more annoying?" 

"Well, I can certainly try, can't I?" He watched her lower lip quiver before she trapped it between her teeth, eyes decidedly staring at the floor. "Give me your hand." 

"You're tired. We can drive," she retorted, instantly. 

He smiled reticently, brushing back a curl from her face. "I am exhausted," he said, gently. "And I'd rather be home, as soon as possible. Please," he finished, as an afterthought. "Could you please get that demonic cat of yours, now?" With little ceremony, she brushed past him, clicking her tongue until she heard the bell around the ebony cat's neck jingle at his presence. Scooping the little feline up, she dragged her feet to getting back to the kitchen where Harry stood rolling his eyes, good-naturedly. "Obstinate little thing, you are." 

"Are you incapable of being quiet or what?" She fussed, scratching the kitten under the chin and tucking the cat under her own. The whitelighter held onto the witch's wrist and in a swirling blur they opened their eyes in the densely green area of Alex's living room. Harry drew a deep breath, stumbling backwards onto the couch as his legs failed to support him any longer. Alex gingerly placed Lemongrass onto Harry's lap, walking off into the kitchen and immediately getting to work. The Brit wanted to tell her that she was doing entirely too much, but the leadened feeling of his body made it impossible. What seemed to be a blink of an eye later, a hot cup of coffee was shoved into his hands, a plate of food following right after. She sat across from him on the coffee table, tapping a rhythm onto her thigh as she waited impatiently. "What are you waiting for?" 

"I'm seeing how long it'll take you for force feed me a plate of," he glanced at the food, "rice and pigeon peas against my will." 

She shrugged. "Four seconds after I finish this sentence?" Her heavy frowning softened considerably, "Please. Just... please?" 

With a ghost of a smirk lingering on his lips, he sunk the coffee down in one, and placed the cup beside her on the coffee table, before fishing the fork out of the corner of the plate and taking a mouthful of rice and peas. "You must have been scared, today," he commented, matter-of-factly before shoveling another mouthful of rice. It wasn't until he had something in his stomach that he realized how hungry he actually was. 

"I don't like fighting." 

He nodded, pushing a pea around the plate before he answered. "I know. I'm sorry I wasn't there." Scooping another bite of rice, he offered it up to Alex, who looked at it with narrowed gaze. "I hate eating alone." Reluctantly, she took the offered food and chewed thoughtfully while she watched Harry maneuver the plate away from a curious LG. 

Sitting on her hands to keep from fidgeting, Alex opened her mouth as if it would kill her if she didn't ask. "Are you-" 

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm fine, Alex." 

"It's not funny, Harry!" 

Enjoying another bite of rice, he smiled to himself. "Are you worried about me, Alexandra?" 

Alex scoffed, rolling her eyes at the man who was quickly wearing at her patience. "No. In fact, I _like_ waking up at 3 am when you have nightmares. Highlight of my fucking day." She was sitting in a closed off position, arms folded tightly across her chest and legs crossed making her look more angry than anxious, which he assumed was her plan all along. Really, she needed to be better at handling emotions. 

"You don't have to be so defensive _all_ the time," he whispered, staring down into her eyes with a knowing look. Harry placed the plate down beside her and moved the kitten from his lap to the floor. Inching to the edge of his seat, he extended his hands, palm up and gestured to them with his head. "Come on," he urged, smiling. "Let me show you something." With a great sigh, she released her arms from the tight knots and placed her hands in his. His thumbs brushed the back of her hands before they were pulled into the reservoir of his memories. Alex saw their arrival at Manchester, the church, finding Carter- it was a lot, of that Harry was certain, but he was sure that the vision would appease her endless need to reassure that the man was actually OK and that nothing ominous had happened to him or Mel during their time away. "So that was _my_ day. How was yours?" He asked, jovially, biding his time until Alex realized he still had her hands captive. 

The floramancer looked thoughtful, her eyes shifting back and forth as they tried to work out what she had just seen in her mind. He expected a million questions and comments to come up from those few minutes of memories. "You don't sound Mancunian." That was not one of them. 

Harry laughed, truly tickled by the comment. "One of the great mysteries of life, I suppose." 

"Does this mean you're leaving for Manchester?" The question came a little softer than her previous comment, and immediately his heart thumped noisily in anguish. 

"Can you imagine _me_ living in Manchester?" The answer seemed to appease her, making her shift a little less uncomfortably than she had before. "My family has thrived despite my absence. The best thing I can do is allow them to continue to flourish." 

"I'm sorry, Harry." She was drawing abstract shapes into his palms with her fingers, sending a shiver down his spine at the light contact. 

"I'm not. I'm not James Westwell, anymore." 

"Of course. You're definitely a Harold," she retorted, matter-of-factly, extracting a laugh from him. "I'm glad you're OK. Physically, and otherwise." 

"Ditto," he concurred. "Now, may I please, _please_ look at that bandage?" 

Alex sighed, closing her eyes briefly before nodding. Harry immediately reached for the corner, and he felt her hand circle his wrist to stop him. "Don't freak out, but this never happened before." Frowning, he peeled away the bandage. Below a layer of dried blood, he could see two deep cuts into her eyebrow ridge. However, on closer inspection, he could see tiny leaves, like young watercress sprouting from the wound. "I didn't want to scare anyone, but when Macy and Maggie were fighting earlier, I conjured a vine. It's how I pulled Maggie out of the way." 

"Right," he said, trying to fill the awkward silence with something, anything that made remotely more sense than a plant growing out of an open wound. He placed his hand over the injury and made quick work out of healing it, noting that where the scars remained, tiny leaf patters were etched onto the tissue. "The other?" 

Shifting in her seat, she parted her gaze, trying to distract the whitelighter. "Which other?" 

"I already saw it, Alex," he urged, rolling his eyes. "Your thigh." Sighing, she pulled the left side of her dress up her thigh, a rather thick cut running up to almost her hip, also bursting with fresh, green leaves. "Bloody hell," he whispered gently prodding at the foliage, ignorant of the uncomfortable look on his companion's face. "I'll make note to look in the book of shadows about-" 

"Still half-naked here, Har." She irrupted, breaking his leisurely train of thought. 

"Sorry. Shit. Sorry." He broke out of his reverie and healed her, allowing her to pull the ripped dress back down. "I suppose that you woke some dormant part of your powers during the scuffle. Strange." 

"Gee, thanks, Har," she riposted, deadpan. 

"That's not what I meant. You know that it's never what I meant," he reassured, reaching up to cup her cheek with his hand. "And thank you for keeping my charges safe. It must've been terrifying to be in the midst of that chaos." 

"I'm not really whitelighter material." 

He smiled warmly, brushing the pad of his thumb over her cheekbone in small circles. "I beg to differ. You've never failed to go above your power in order to rise to the occasion," he offered in counterpoint. "The first time around you brought someone back from the dead, and today you made a whole living entity out of thin air. If anything, you're overqualified." With a sigh, she planted her legs onto the floor hardwood floor, shooting him a tight-lipped smile, clearing the dirty dishes. It was a beat and a half before Harry followed her quietly into the kitchen, watching her take out her frustrations by scrubbing dishes in the sink. "Alex?" She hummed in response, not bothering to look over at him as she rinsed the dishes and put them on the rack to dry. "Alright?" 

"Yeah. Sorting through feelings, I guess," she replied, wiping her hands down on a kitchen towel, eventually turning to lean against the counter and look at him. "I'm glad you're not leaving," she offered, looking conflicted as to whether she wanted to say it or not. "I'm particularly fond of your kitchen, so...," she added, trying to sound nonchalant. 

"Oh, it would be too inconvenient to leave," he followed, waving away the thought. "Imagine the money I'd have to spend to make sure _everything_ reeked of lavender, _all_ the time." With a derisive chuckle, he pulled up his sleeve, taking account of the time on his wrist watch before sighing. It was near midnight, and he definitely _felt_ it. All he really wanted was to crash into bed and sleep for a decade or two before he had to have his morning tea. He would settle for a few hours, though. "Are you certain you're alright?" 

She gave a dismissive laugh, walking past him out of the kitchen to fix random things around her apartment. "You know me, Harry. Bulletproof." 

"I _do_ know you. Which is why I am asking," Harry pressed, placing a hand on her shoulder to pull her attention towards him. 

Alex smiled, placing her hands on either one of his shoulders and staring straight at him, green eyes on brown. "I, Alexandra C. Figueroa López, am perfectly fine." She pointed her index and made an X on her chest. "Cross my heart." She released him soon after. 

"Then, I will take my leave and I will see you tomorrow," he settled, patting down his pockets to make sure he had everything he had arrived with, despite knowing that he absolutely did. "Goodnight, Alexandra." He raised his right hand to snap his fingers. 

"Wait!" She called, breaking him out of his concentration, his hand closing tightly as if scared of movement. 

It was nary a second before the panic settled into his system, and he worriedly evaluated her indecipherable expression. "Is everything OK, Al-" The kiss swallowed whatever inquiry he was about to make, instead succeeding in forcing all of the tension he was holding in his shoulders to melt as they lowered into relaxation. The encounter was short-lived, and rather confusing, but it was satisfying and made him feel warm and concerned and elated and confused, all at the same time. He rested his forehead against hers, trying in vain to sort his thoughts into coherent trains, but he was failing miserably. He opted, instead, for sneaking another peck or two. It had been a solid two weeks since the last time she had terrified and delighted him in equal measure with a kiss, and he had half-thought that he had dreamt the whole scenario. Well, she felt pretty damn real, at the moment. "I'd ask what that was for, but I don't want to push my luck." 

"Just... don't disappear and leave me to be the only adult in the middle of a supernatural battle ever again, please." She whispered, carding her fingers through his hair before stepping back, cheeks flushed. 

"Deal," he replied, breath caught in his throat. "Good night, Alex," he repeated, placing a kiss on her heated right cheek and disappearing after her mumbled _Bye_.


	18. Phantom pain

Harry washed his face for the third time that night, hoping the water would take away his wakefulness with it as it swirled down the drain. He had spent most of the night restless. What was confusing was that he was not having any bad dreams, he didn't feel ill, but the second his head hit the pillow, he would be awake a few minutes later, his head pounding oddly. Surely, this was not normal. Deciding that the best course of action was to brew some tea, he padded on carpeted floor to the kitchen, wincing as his bare feet met the cold linoleum that lined the room. He made quick work of filling the kettle and putting it to boil as he stared at the open overhead cupboard, evaluating his selection of tea. 

Another wave of pain rattled at his brain, his head feeling like someone was screaming inside, but there was no sound. "Fuck," he hissed through clenched teeth, hunting through the drawers for a bottle of aspirin to pair with the tea. For a moment he darkly lamented that Alex had not been woken up through _the grapevine_ , which was what she called the vast network of plants that told her secrets about his life. Her brewing skills were the best that he had seen in years, and whatever was in that pond water she gave him to treat migraines was worthy of Nobel prize. 

Dry swallowing two aspirin tablets, he stared at the tea kettle, anxiously waiting for it to boil before the next wave of pain was due. It had a very irregular pattern, which was a bother, but more importantly, it made no sense. Either he had an aneurysm about to burst or something was very wrong. The next wave came, but unlike the pain of the previous, this one was accompanied by sound. He caught what he thought was the end of an ear-shattering screech, the sensation leaving his ears ringing far after the pain had subsided. "What the bloody hell?" Packing a ball-shaped infuser with chamomile tea, he filled a cup with boiling water and set his brew to steep. 

The next wave was so strong that it caused him to grip the countertop so hard that his knuckles turned white. It was a long mournful cry, turning clearer and clearer every time it repeated itself. The sounds were coming so close together now that it was making the whitelighter dizzy. Wiping at his brow with the hem of his white sleep shirt, he lowered himself into one of the tall barstools at the kitchen island before his legs completely gave out from under him. Pain, anguish, fear, desperation; he could pick out every single emotion out of the screaming, as clear as if he were feeling them himself. He wanted to double over and curl into himself on the floor. For some reason, he imagined the voice making these noises was in such a position, at the moment. Forcing himself up on shaky legs, he glued his gaze to the bedroom door. If he could make it to his mobile, he could probably make sure he survived the night, but the door looked miles away and the pain in his head was killing him sooner rather than later. 

_Harry_

His blood ran cold. The screeching in his head had just delivered an intelligible message and it was as ominous as it was excruciating. This was not one of the Charmed Ones. He could feel their presence in his mind, and their calls never felt like this, even when he was being tortured in Tartarus and heard their pleads. Not even hell was this cruel. The pain returned, washing his consciousness with blazing pins and needles. He needed to figure out what could possibly do this. Who could possibly have the ability to reach out to- 

_H A R R Y !_

His eyes widened as large as saucers as soon as he placed the voice, one that he had never heard make these kinds of noises before. "Alex!" He stumbled, clenching his teeth to bear the brunt of the horror before he managed to concentrate long enough to orb. He had landed just outside her bedroom door where Lemongrass was pawing frantically in an effort to get inside. Harry tried the doorknob, only to find it locked. His shot nerves would not be enough to orb to the other side of the door without accidentally landing in Istanbul. So, as a compromise, he squared his shoulder and rammed it against the locked entry, the wood yielding to the force. 

He had little time to appreciate the dense foliage surrounding the bed or the flowers blooming from every corner of the room. Instead, his eyes were trained on the form writhing on the bed, screaming in pain as she contorted over and over. It took a few false starts, but he managed to get his feet moving, cat in tow, to the bed. He pulled the woman up to sit, brushing hair, which had plastered onto her forehead with sweat, out of her face. "Alexandra?" He gave the woman a little shake to try and rouse her from her stupor. With half-lidded eyes, she stared up into his eyes, exhausted and confused. "Alex, what is going on?" 

Panting, she weakly shook her head. "It hurts. Harry, it hurts," she muttered, tears leaking out of the corner of her eyes. 

"What hurts? Alex? Alex!" Just as he was getting her attention, another wave hit, and Alex screeched at the top of her lungs, her whole body going rigid as the whole room exploded in bloom, died out, and blossomed once more. "Fucking. Hell," he whispered, wide-eyed, watching dense patches of forest appear and disappear around him at a glance. 

Alex was sobbing at this point, her limbs going limp in his arms. His heart ached. She seemed so desperate to catch her breath and ease the burning in her body, but whatever magic was acting upon her was making it impossible for her to catch a break. "I don't want to. It hurts," she chanted over and over, and Harry could do nothing else but pull her to his chest, and whisper empty assurances as the process repeated itself again and again while tears flowed down both their faces. 

It was about four in the morning when the screaming and conjuring had subsided. Spent, Alex fell into a restless slumber with her face against his chest and his shaking arms refused to let go of her frame. He had absolutely no idea what was going on, and he didn't know if this was the last of it, or just the beginning, but he knew that he could not risk moving a single inch or else she crumble into nothingness. He rested back against the headboard, hand absently drawing a trail up and down her back as she slept. Her sleepshirt had several holes torn in them, and he wondered whether it had been destroyed from the outside in or from the inside out. He had been curious about the leaves growing out of her open wounds, but he never would have thought they would force their way out into the world. 

By eight in the morning, her body was twitching, and Harry was afraid that another bout of screaming and conjuring was coming, until green eyes blinked up at him. "Harry," she whispered, voice raw from having spent the night screeching. "Don't go." 

"I won't. I promise," he whispered back, choking up at the pleading expression in her eyes. "I'm not moving." Despite having passed out asleep a few seconds later, he did not waver on his promise. It was nearly two in the afternoon when she stirred, her body shaking. Harry had drifted asleep in the same stiff position he had spent the night in. It had taken little of her movement to wake him up with a sharp inhale, blinking away whatever dreams clung to his eyelashes and focused his gaze on her. "Hello, there," he whispered, pleasantly, forcing a smile onto his face and trailing the back on his hand down her cheek. "Do you know who I am?" Alex almost mustered the energy to roll her eyes, opting instead for nodding and mouthed _Harry_ at him. "Do you know where you are?" Another nod, this time accompanied by _my apartment_. "Do you remember what happened last night?" She nodded once more, this time mimicking a bomb exploding, which made Harry chuckle. "Right, you are," he whispered as she lay her head against him, lulling herself into calm by the persistent, if a little irregular, beating of his heart. "Are you hungry?," he murmured against her hair. There was a rather insistent shake of her head that Harry found rather odd. The world could be ending, the Apocalypse might have begun, Hell could have frozen over, and Alex would still have been hungry. 

He shifted beneath her, pulling a groan from her throat and causing her to tighten her grip on his shirt, firmly cementing her in her position. "No," she hissed, sounding like the demonic equivalent of her cat and sending him the darkest glare he had ever seen her deliver. 

"Firstly, don't force your voice. Secondly, you can't just stay in bed all day," he admonished, though he was greatly enjoying the warmth of having her just curled in his lap. 

"I'm so tired," she whispered. The dark bags under her eyes told him no lies, and the general malaise of her demeanor raised no doubts in her story, either. Still, he was sure she had probably burnt enough calories during the night to equate a couple of marathons, so it was in her best interest to get some sort of nutrition in her stomach before she succumbed to sleep once more. 

Harry sighed, scratching her scalp with his fingers and tilting her head to face him. "Would you let me stay in bed all day?" For a moment he saw the flicker of annoyance at having caught her exactly where he wanted her, and the botanist had to shake her head. "Then we should get up and eat something, right?" 

With a pronounced pout, she nodded her head, looking over at the bedroom door much like he supposed he was looking at his last night. Every muscle fiber twitched in odd symphony, a testament of their overuse and her dehydration. With no prompting, he shuffled her to the edge of the bed watching her teeter to a sitting position while he gratefully stretched his limbs, each one screaming from remaining still for so long. Alex pushed herself to her feet, managing a single footstep before her knees gave out on her and Harry had to jump forward, catching her around the waist while he got dizzy with a headrush. "I have you," he reassured in a whisper, for the moment not dwelling on the fact that he was enjoying this closeness, despite the circumstances and his usually skittish demeanor. They walked ever so slowly to the kitchen, where he pulled out a chair and helped her sit at the table. "What do you feel like?" 

"Grilled cheese and hot chocolate," Alex whispered, looking a bit more lively than she had a moment ago. 

He chuckled, rolling his eyes. "Really aiming for high caliber calories, aren't we?" He smirked at her over his shoulder, digging through the refrigerator for the cheese, mustard and milk. Putting on the milk to warm on the hob as he cut pieces of rustic Puerto Rican bread for toasties. "Do you want it extra toasted?" He watched Alex nod enthusiastically, putting up her feet under her and leaning over the table. Pouring prepared hot chocolate into a mug, he placed the steaming warm drink in front of her. Alex whispered a _thank you_ before taking a deep sip, curling into herself as she cupped the mug with both hands. 

"There's marshmallows in the cupboard," she said, her honeyed voice still rough, but not sounding as terrible as it did earlier, now that she had something to drink. The bag was placed in front of her a short moment after. "Thank you." A moment later a very brown grilled cheese was set in front of the floramancer the bread steaming and the wonderful smell enticing the woman who had claimed she was _not hungry_ earlier. 

"Wait, before you get into that, drink this." Harry set down a shot glass, an amber liquid set upon a slightly more dense substance of a darker shade. "Honey and whiskey, for your throat." Alex swirled the two together with a small spoon and knocked back the shot in one, making a face as it burned the whole way down. Placing the shot glass upside down on the table, she patted the seat beside her and gestured him to sit. The whitelighter gladly sunk into the seat, nursing a cup of builder's tea in his hands and sipping sporadically. The woman crunched loudly on her sandwich, making a happy noise in the back of her throat as she did before offering it up to the Brit, who had yet to touch his own food. With a suppressed grin, he took a bite, chasing it with tea before the process happened all over again. Without them noticing, they had finished their meal and were left to ponder on the events of the prior night. 

Harry fell into a rabbit hole of dark thoughts. When he closed his eyes he could see Alex's body, stiff as a board, back arched severely as she screamed like she was being tortured. He could see her pleading eyes and hear her cries for it to stop. He could remember the pain. He could _feel_ the pain. It was all so raw and present in his mind that he wondered if he would ever sleep another night while knowing that this could have been happening here for any length of time. His brown eyes sauntered to the woman, daintily sipping at her hot chocolate with its dozens of floating marshmallows, seemingly not a care in the world. 

"If you stare any harder, I'll burst into flame," she whispered, nudging him in the side with her elbow. 

"Sorry," he started, smiling gently. "I was just thinking and my thoughts just ran away with me, I suppose." He sighed, patting her thigh reassuringly. 

"About?" 

"What would have happened if I hadn't come. If you weren't able to call me." He frowned. "How _did_ you call me?" 

Alex smiled sadly. "I didn't. I just couldn't think of anyone else. You're who I go to when I'm scared." 

Harry felt his heart shatter into a million pieces, partly because he couldn't imagine a pain where she couldn't concentrate on anything other than help, and partly because her sentiment was most likely the sweetest and most rewarding things he had ever heard. The wayward thought that he wished he would retain that important and coveted goal for the long haul tickled his fancy before stowing itself away in the back of his brain. "I'm sorry I didn't hear earlier."


	19. Genetically modified

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am 100% a Hacy fan, but if I were writing on the show, I'd write Alex into existence and force Harry into misery.

The alarm blared at 6:15 am, just as it did every other day. Harry briefly considered hitting the snooze button for another ten minutes of blissful rest, but the part of him that decided he should be a responsible adult won out the argument. Making a noise of complaint in the back of his throat, he crawled out of bed, every vertebra and joint popping noisily as he stretched and greeted the morning. Sometimes he really felt all of his hundred years. He shuffled towards the washroom, his nose feeling like there was something in the air that did not agree with him, and sneezing multiple times. It seemed too early in the year for allergies, but with how crazy the climate currently was, he wouldn't be surprised. Paying no mind, he hopped into the shower, commencing his morning routine so that he could get to the University in a timely manner. 

Marching to the kitchen, suit jacket over his shoulder, he stopped mid-step to sneeze, once again. A quick glance out of the window revealed still-bare trees and newly sprouting leaves on the bushes. Of all of the plants he had in his flat (which were a fair few- how the hell did he not notice she was a witch before was beyond him), the only ones flowering were the lavender and the lilies. He had never had any sort of allergic reaction to them before. A cursory look around the condo revealed no dust, no cobwebs, and he didn't _feel_ sick. Putting his jacket down on one of the stools, he went through the motions of putting the kettle on, popping some bread in the toaster and pacing around the kitchen as he carefully did up his tie. He hated admitting it, but Alex did a much better job at knotting it than he did (mastering random tasks was her idea of fun) and he groaned at the crooked feeling of the double Windsor. Deciding he was making it worse, he took his hands away, placing them onto the countertop to wait for his breakfast to finish. 

Under his fingers he could feel a fine powder. Turning his palm over, Harry looked at his hands, watching tiny black speckles dotting his digits. Taking a closer inspection, it looked far too regular to be cracked pepper, though the second he got it near his face, he sneezed. Frowning, he reached for one of the overhead cupboards, snatching a small vial from his collection and sweeping whatever of the fine powder he could into the receptacle. Macy would know what it was, surely. 

"Good morning, Macy," Harry announced genially, stepping into the ancestral home. The witch was sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee while she looked generally miserable. "Rough night?" 

"Two-for-one shots at the Haunt with Maggie," she complained, rubbing her temples with a forlorn expression. "Where did she learn how to drink?" 

"Lord only knows," he replied, having lived through many a drinks night with the youngest sister and barely living to tell the tale the next morning. "Do you want some of my hangover cure?" 

Macy smiled sardonically. "I'd rather have the hangover." 

"Thought as much." Fishing through his pockets, he retrieved the vial with the fine powder he found in his kitchen, placing it in front of curious woman. "Any chance you can tell me what this is?" Macy gave him a look as if to say _are you kidding me_ before he corrected. "I mean, do you have time to look at it and tell me what it might be?" 

"Yeah. Let me get my stuff," she agreed, looking relatively more perky than she had a moment prior. Harry had sat back at the table as he watched the scientist set up her microscope, and take a small sample of powder to place it into a drop of oil she had set on a slide. Focusing up to the highest magnification, she took a long look at the structure, her brow furrowing more the longer she looked at it. "It looks like spores. Like from a fern, maybe," she offered. "Can you come by the lab after lunch? I can tell you more then." 

Harry had made it with barely enough time to drop off his things in his office before he was needed in a meeting. Days like these seemed to just drag along while inefficient humans made their ineffectual plans and slowed them all down. He was meant to play the part, however. Still, sometimes he found himself making a snide remark and offering advice in a sarcastic tone. It usually went unnoticed. Having dealt with quite enough for one day, he set his course for the science block, walking down towards the biochemistry labs to find Macy. 

"Harry! I'm so excited you're here!" Macy gushed as she rushed through the lab with a wide smile. A little ways behind her, Gavin followed with a stack full of papers, equally as excited. "Come on! Come on!" The witch took the whitelighter by the hand and dragged him over to one of the high-powered microscopes that was already set up and raring to go. 

"Greetings, Gavin. Macy, what are we rushing towards?" Harry waved over his shoulder at the young man before giving the witch a look. 

"Don't kill my buzz, Greenwood," she admonished, clicking through the programming and adjusting the magnification on the sample before turning the screen towards the Brit. "Look at this!" 

Harry turned his gaze onto the screen, staring at the miniscule handful of circles with a blank expression. "They are spores," he announced, though he did not seem very sure of his assessment. 

The telekinetic witch gave him a disbelieving look, shaking her head. "You know, in your hundred years, I'd've thought you would have cracked open a science book at some point." Harry smiled, not even bothering to look ashamed. "Spores are vegetable cells. They have a cell wall, vacuole, and chloroplasts. The cell wall is really thick for them to survive long periods without water before they're planted." 

"That's great, Macy. I'm allergic to spores." 

"Be quiet!" She irrupted, trying to get him to refocus. She clicked and pulled up an image. "This is what spores usually look like. These are the ones you found," she continued, putting the images side by side. "Spot the differences." 

Sighing, he tilted his head at the screen, brown eyes darting back and forth between them. "Well, if I had to take a guess, the shape is different and that one has a big border around it." 

"Yes!" Clicking to get a close-up of the spores, Macy continued. "Your spores have no cell wall, they have no cellulose, actually. I thought they might be bacterial spores, but again, no cell wall. They have a phospholipid bilayer membrane like an animal cell even though it has chloroplasts!" Another blank stare from the Brit. "Seriously, once every decade. Take a gander at a basic bio book, Har." 

He rolled his eyes. "It's a spore that's not a spore. I got that much." 

"I had Gavin do some quick karyotyping and sequencing and you'll never guess what he found!" 

"I am more than certain that is a correct assumption," he agreed. 

Gavin was grinning in a corner, already excited about the big reveal. "It has 23 sets of chromosomes." 

He frowned. "Like humans?" The two scientists looked pleasantly shocked. "Pick both your jaws up from the floor and get on with it, then." 

"I thought it was a coincidence, because plants have such a variable amount of chromosomes. That was, until I did the sequencing. They are _human_ chromosomes, from a XX individual," Gavin explained, attempting to contain his excitement. 

"I don't follow." 

"Plant cells with a human twist?" She offered, helpfully. Harry shook his head, gaze still narrowed. "We think that, er, well... Alex is … _sporulating_ ," Macy finished, eyes bright with excitement. 

His mouth found its way into an 'O' shape before a smile tugged at the side of his mouth. "Ok, you're right. That's brilliant," Harry nodded to himself, trying to sort the information in his head while also pointedly ignoring the childish giggling coming from Macy and Galvin, beside him. He had half-listened to the information that had been delivered after the fact before he had disappeared out the door and back to his office, curious about the latest happenings in the life of the floramancer. The whitelighter had exhausted the reading of every tome he could find on the magical beings. He would admit that the information was scare and riddled with holes and misconceptions about their nature. Other than how they came to be in the world, and their taboo relationship with the Elder council, there wasn't much to go by. 

As soon as he opened the door to his flat, there was a black cat winding through his legs, making little noises of appreciation for his arrival. "Good afternoon, Lemongrass. Yes, I am glad to see you, as well." His greeting was marred with a violent sneeze, his mind suddenly remembering what had happened that morning. 

"Bless you," Alex called, walking out of the study with a rag in her hand, dressed in her lemon yellow t-shirt and black pedal pusher overalls looking like a child on an after school job. "Hey, Greenwood." 

Before he could greet her, he sneezed again, though he was laughing when he righted himself. "I need to tell you the _wildest_ thing." 

Smirking, Alex made her way to the kitchen table and sunk down into one of the chairs. "Wild? Let me at it, then." 

" _You_ are producing _spores_ " He recounted with a wide smile. 

Alex frowned. "What?" Her delivery was deadpan. 

Pulling a chair, he sat, gesturing wildly with his hands as he explain. "This morning I was making breakfast and I found some black dust on the counter. I took it to Macy and she discovered they were spores, of plant origin, but with human DNA. Female human DNA. Apparently it's part of a complex pheromone system. All really fascinating." 

The botanist blew a breath out noisily, her cheeks puffing out. "Have you ever spoken to another human before, Har? Because sometimes, I wonder." The Brit looked at her, confused, before she rolled her eyes, knowing it was a lost cause. " _How_ did you know that there were spores in your apartment?" 

He waved it off with a chuckle. "Oh, it turns out I'm terribly allergic to them. I've been sneezing all week-" His jaw snapped shut when Alex's face fell, her attention diverting to the kitten rearing up to put its front paws on her legs. "Alex?" 

"You're _allergic_ to spores I apparently create?" He nodded, carefully. Alex clenched her jaw, pinching the bridge of her nose to stave off a headache. "He's allergic to my pheromones. Great. Story of my love life," she muttered to herself, getting to her feet and stomping to the kitchen to reorganize. 

"Why are you upset? This is unknown information! We are literally writing the book on floramancy." 

Alex turned, rag in her hand as she stared at the whitelighter apprehensively. It was a good two minutes before she shook her head, looking like she was entirely done with his idiocy. "Are you _sure_ you can see something on my back? Because I am one hundred percent sure that we'd be a dumpster fire of a couple." 

Scowling, he scoffed. "Why d'you say _that_?" He would worry about sounding a little too offended later. 

"You've just walked in and started spouting nonsense about how you're _allergic_ to my pheromone spores," she said slowly, as if it was an obvious thing. 

Understanding dawned onto his features. He had always attempted to be as sensible and sensitive about magical afflictions that ailed those nearest him, but he could safely say that his years on Earth had erased his mental filter. "You look lovely?" 

"Can I go back to doing my reorganizing?" She asked, gesturing over her shoulder. 

He raised his hand, grimacing. "Um... actually... the spores are-" 

"For fuck's sake. I'll go home," she exclaimed, throwing down the dusting rag. 

Harry sighed, kicking off his chair and closing the distance between them with his hands in his pockets. "Al _ex_." 

"Don't _Alex_ me, Greenwood," she admonished, ruffling her hair anxiously, trying to see herself out. "May I please go now?" Instead of stepping aside, he took another step into her space, slouching to reach her line of sight. "Go away. I'll make you _sneezy_." 

He hummed in the back of his throat, making a fuss of feigning thought. "I really don't care," he whispered, drawing her fidgeting hands away from her hair. "Let me start again. Hello, Alex. You look lovely today, even though you're dressed like an unemployed kindergartener." Alex laughed, holding her lower lip between her teeth to stop from guffawing. "I found some odd little things on the countertop and it turned out to be spores. Apparently, they're human and have chloroplasts and it's such a bloody mess, but we can figure it out later. I think they're the reason you were in agony a week ago." He leaned his forehead against hers with a smile. "Now, even though I seem to be allergic to them, I'd rather risk anaphylactic shock than not see you." 

Alex's bottom lip quivered briefly, and her green eyes glancing downwards as she shifted her feet awkwardly. "You don't have to try and make me feel better." 

He dipped his head, pressing lips onto hers, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of her overalls to tug her closer to him and causing her to sigh. Whether it was out of surprise or confusion, her hands had frozen in tight fists by her sides for a few minutes before they had reticently slid up around his neck. This was not the shy, almost apologetic, kissing they had been doing sporadically, and for a Harry felt guilty for acting like an anxious teenager sneaking in a snogging session before the parents got home. He suddenly stopped, taking a step back and pulling the handkerchief out of his pocket as he turned his head and sneezed, causing Alex to explode in laughter. 

"Dumpster. Fire." She managed between giggles. "Let's face it, Greenwood. We're awful together. We've gotten the mark right, and nothing else." 

"And, yet," he started, digging into his jacket pocket to retrieve a bottle of anti-histamine and shake it in her direction, "I _still_ want to kiss you," he whispered, smiling so wide his eyes crinkled at the corners. "Despite being _the most infuriating human I've ever met_." He watched as her cheeks flooded with color, trying to look nonplussed while also fidgeting as much as she ever did. 

"You could've said it's because you think I'm pretty and saved yourself the whole infuriating shit," she protested, kicking the toe of her shoes against the floor. 

"I think you're _gorgeous_ ," he corrected, locking eyes with her, "but I think we both know that that's _besides the fucking point_ , in our case." 

"Harold Greenwood!" Alex admonished in mock outrage. 

"You've proved my point. You're bloody impossible," he said, rolling his eyes. He snaked his arms around her waist, despite her half-hearted protests and propped his chin on her crown. "You smell of lavender and moonlight, and you currently give me allergies and you are the most obstinate human I've met-" 

"Really giving it the hard sell, Har," she muttered, though her hands had fistfuls of his shirt and she would not hesitate to punch him if he let her go. 

He risked loosening one arm to tilt her chin up towards him. "If I've said it once, I've said a thousand times- you don't always have to be so defensive." The woman muttered some sort of excuse under her breath, unamused. "I'm aware you think I'm an idiot, but I quite like you, Alexandra. Do with that what you will." 

Alex looked confused, her brow knotted severely as she tried to figure out what dimension she had suddenly fallen into. Moreover, she looked generally untrusting of the whitelighter's words and that was what irked Harry the most. Surely his near-constant presence and the fact he never denied her much of anything was an indication of affection. "Because I'm a witch and that's sort of your kink?" 

"Who hurt you?" Harry almost laughed at himself, hearing his expression as so much of a facsimile of Maggie. 

"How much time do you have?" She asked with a smirk. He, on the other hand, did not seem as amused. "I'm a five foot four woman with terrible circumstances and even worse anxiety, Harry. I'm doing what I can." 

"And that's all well and good, but you don't have to _do_ anything," he explained, gently, cupping her face just as she attempted to avert her gaze. "I like you just the same whether you're knackered and want to stay in bed or want to take down the Elder council. I'm not biding my time hoping you hit a peak." 

The botanist snorted. "Well, that makes one of us." 

"You know, at some point you need to realize you're already brilliant and actually start liking yourself," he declared bluntly, and the witch's breath got caught in her throat. From the wide-eyed stare she was giving him, no one had ever really put life in those terms to her. For a split second he feared he had pushed just a bit too hard and had an apology poised on the tip of his tongue before she caught him by the mouth, clutching his lapels to prevent his escape – not that he was planning one. He had walked her backwards until her back met the edge of the countertop, the two still feverishly exchanging kisses as they both grappled to physically draw the other closer. Harry had just pulled the woman onto the dark granite top, holding her by the hips when the front door swung open, causing them both to start. 

"Hey, Har – oh, shit. Abort. Abort!" Maggie urged, trying to force her curious sisters back out into the hallway. Harry now regretted giving the sisters a copy of his key for emergencies. 

The whitelighter stepped a meter to the right, attempting, in vain, to smooth down the crumped oxford and tie in an effort to maintain decorum. Decorum had currently gone off a cliff and died, though, and Alex's crimson cheeks, swollen lips and general aura of discomfort spoke volumes. Just when he thought the moment couldn't get any worse, he broke into a chorus of sneezes, causing both Macy and Alex to break into giggles. This was going to be a bloody nightmare.


	20. Tactical surrender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, nothing says romance more than awkward reluctance, does it?

Harry was sat at the kitchen table of the Vera-Vaughn household grading midterms. Frowning at the plethora of non-sensical phrases his students had jotted down to open-ended questions, he failed to notice that his three charges had descended upon him. They were surrounding him in adjoining seats and were currently staring intently at the oblivious whitelighter. They spent a solid minute watching, the only sound heard being the scratching of pen on paper before Mel had rolled her eyes and knocked on the wooden surface of the table, startling the man. 

The man tutted, trying to brush a glob of ink off of the page, but only succeeding in spreading it further. "Good Lord. What exactly possessed you to give me a heart attack?" 

"We've got a bone to pick," Mel answered, plucking the pen out of the man's grip, leaving him to groan in exasperation. He was going to lose the rhythm he had so carefully crafted. 

"Get on with it, then." 

Maggie leaned forward, excitedly, brushing her hair behind her ear as if preparing for particularly good gossip. "So, Alex..." 

She let the phrase hang in the air, the Brit frowning as though he was expecting there to be some sort of follow up. "Is at home with her mangy cat doing whatever it is she does on her off time?" 

"We were more concerned as to whether you had asked her out, yet." Mel cut in, exasperatedly. 

Harry snorted, looking at Mel as if she had just said the most foolish thing he'd ever heard. "Of course, I didn't. Why would I ever?" 

"Because...you like her." 

He knotted his brow, a patronizing expression populating his features. "I like the monarchy. You don't see me asking the Queen out for a pint, do you?" He offered, taking their momentary distraction to pull the pen back. Macy had it flying out of his hand and hovering several feet above his head a second later. "Can I get back to my grading?" 

"Sure. Once you text Alex and ask her out," the telekinetic witch reasoned, smiling broadly at the clearly scowling face of her whitelighter. 

Taking a deep breath, Harry attempted a defense. "You three know floramancers routinely get murdered for even _knowing_ whitelighters, right?" 

"One, all the more reason to know where Alex is, at any given time, and two, that's not a denial of my accusation," Mel answered, folding her arms and doing an impression of a disappointed mother. 

"You are correct. Alex is a lovely person, great scientist, brilliant professor, excellent friend –" 

Maggie stared him down as if she knew his deepest, darkest secrets, which, in all honesty, she very well might. "Don't act as if we didn't catch you mid make-out sesh, dude." 

The Brit opened and closed his mouth several times, doing a remarkable impression of a fish out of water, cheeks burning crimson. He very well couldn't claim the moral high ground when his hands had been skimming the skin at the hem of her shirt and his lips had been stuck to hers as though the fate of the Universe depended on it. The flashing memory alone made his blush deepen, extracting a chorus of giggles from the perimeter. After all, had he not been the one to initiate the kissing? Had he not been the one ardently arguing for their relationship? _I quite like you, Alexandra._ That is what he had said. Sure, he was more than likely off his rocker with mysterious plant-human pheromones, but he _had_ made a convincing argument, and none of it had been a lie. 

"Uh, Har bear? You with us, bud?" Maggie asked, giving the whitelighter a little shake to break him out of his reverie. 

"Yes, yes. I'm fine," he assured, giving them a tight-lipped smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. 

"Wait, wait, wait. Why'd you get sad?" Macy asked, reaching out for his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze while the pen clattered on the table from lack of concentration. 

His mask was better the second time around. "I didn't. My mind is just elsewhere." 

"What do you mean you don't know if she likes you? Did you not notice her stuck on your face the other day or what?" 

"Maggie, for goodness' sake," he grumbled, shaking the empath's contact with him with a disapproving look. "We are not normal humans. We're two very different people and, to be frank, I'm not really her type." 

"Good! Her type is usually trash. Did you _meet_ her ex?" Mel irrupted. "I've seen gum on the sidewalk with more personality." 

"We are under constant scrutiny from the Elders. She deserves a rest from them. I can't, in good faith –" 

"Now you're just making excuses," Mel cut in, rolling her eyes. 

Harry groaned, taking his pen back from where it fell on the table and tapping it against the wood. "Of course I'm making bloody excuses. In what universe am I _not_ attracted to Alex? Seriously?" He sighed, looking halfway between frustrated and distraught. "I have a historically dismal track record with forbidden romances," he said, deadpan. "Someone died last time. This time, it could be Alex or one of you. Maybe I'd learn something from not continuing to pursue this... whatever it is." 

"Or, maybe you ask her out as soon as possible because the last time you were this mopey, your powers didn't work," Mel argued, delivering the ultimatum. "Stop being such a doomsdayer. I'm not sure I can resist slapping you much longer." The sisters all agreed. 

The issue had plagued his mind long after the sisters had bugged him to their hearts' content. His mind had hopped from conversation to conversation as he graded, to the point where he was fairly certain he had scribbled Alex's name onto one of the midterms in his distraction. His excuses were certainly weak, even if they were justified, and the point of contention always came back to the fact that she had not said anything back to him. Well, other than affirming that they would be a _dumspter fire_ , as she so eloquently phrased it. Then again, Alex was less about the words and more about action; a kiss, a tousle of his hair, appearing midway through the night after he had woken from a nightmare. There was not an action that wasn't thought and overthought before being executed. She was intense and to the point, and maybe his interpretation of the world was simply ill-equipped to deal with a force of nature such as her. Still, there was something... missing. 

Somehow, he found himself in her apartment. Trying to deconvolute his train of thought that had led him to appear at her door (or, at least, just inside it), confused but not disappointed. At once, the resident feline had rushed towards him, weaving through his legs in greeting and making a symphony of small, happy noises at his arrival. Bending down to scratch under his chin, Harry took in the quiet of the home, noting that he could distinctly sense her presence nearby. He didn't know exactly how he knew, he just knew that she was there, and it wasn't just the distinctive scent of lavender wafting towards him. Rounding the corner, he found her swaying in the hammock, a book poised on her lap. Her green gaze, unsurprised, moved upwards to lock with his and she smiled. 

_It was about time, Greenwood._ Tilting his head, he observed her for a moment before his brain processed that she had not, indeed, spoken. Having spent so long staring at her in silence and with a confused expression, the floramancer stared back, clearly amused. _Harry_ This time his name sounded like a question and he was more than certain that her mouth had not moved. He could hear her, just like he could any of his charges, but this connection seemed more intimate, sensitive, effortless, despite the fact that her countenance told him that she thought he was an idiot. And everything suddenly clicked in his mind. 

Alex set her book beside her, smoothing down the skirt of her purple dress, trying her hardest to lean forward without the hammock flipping and tossing her onto the floor. "You OK, bud?" Her voice was unusually soft, but fitting to the calm atmosphere of the apartment. Then again, right then he felt he could have heard her across the din of battle. 

Harry stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets in an attempt to quell their nervous fidgeting. "Alexandra, would you be interested in getting dinner with me? Somewhere other than either of our places?" 

The woman beamed in response, offering but a nod in return.


	21. Off-duty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was feeling real "slice-of-life"-ish today.

The changes in their relationship were subtle. Harry surmised they would never be a typical couple, which suited them just fine, but there _were_ changes. A comforting wink when he'd been staring at her for a touch too long, a lingering hand on the small of her back, an excuse to remain by his side for just a moment longer than was necessary, holding back from completely eviscerating him at Scrabble. Subtle, but there. 

Harry sat watching the botanist typing angrily at her laptop, composing a devastatingly, life-shattering response to a poor fool who decided to unfairly review her latest submitted article. Or, at least she had _said_ that it was unfairly reviewed. He had probably understood about thirty percent of what she had grumbled at him with a surly disposition. I was partly due because she was talking so quickly her words blurred together and partly because she had switched to Spanish half way through and he had lost track of the conversation, altogether. At a certain point he had dared to wander closer to the female, depositing a mug of coffee in front of her. It was a toss-up as to whether it would mellow her mood or fuel her rage. It had been a good half-hour and the clacking of keys was seemingly not about to dissipate any time soon. Per his estimate, Alex could type ninety three words per minute. 

"Hey, Har," she queried, stopping her typing in favor of curling her fingers around the warm coffee mug. "Is the sentence _I will vanquish you to the pits of Hell for this, you self-aggrandizing, uncultured, sewer demon_ grammatically correct?" 

Harry crumpled his brow, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye while he minded some chicken on the stove. "I do not care to participate in this vicious retribution, Alex." 

" _Harry!_ " She complained sharply, and the sentiment echoed in his head like a hot dagger, crossing into his brain through his eye, momentarily leaving him dizzy. 

"Bloody fucking hell. Settle down!" He winced rubbing at his left eye with the heel of his palm to quell the pain. "How about you focus that anger on something else? 

Alex pouted, her shoulders slumping gently. "Like what?" 

"Like, literally _anything_ else." He was chopping parsley distractedly. "Maybe like keeping the cat off my very nice sofa?" 

"He's only on the sofa because you won't let him on the bed," she retorted, sliding off the stool she was sitting at and padding quietly until she was behind him. With a whining groan, she pressed her forehead against his back. "Ha _rry_." There were no sharp edges in his mind, this time around. 

"Yes, Alexandra?" There was an unintelligible noise that made him chuckle. He reached behind him, patting her head. "Come on. I need to open the oven, love." The botanist muttered something in Spanish that sounded like a complaint. "The sooner you allow me to do that, the sooner I can hug you." Reluctantly, she took a step back, letting the whitelighter put all his food prep in the oven and rinse his hands. There was a few seconds later when he had his arms tightly wound around the woman, shaking her obnoxiously and making her giggle. "You are aware that you cannot send that email, right?" 

"But, Har, it's not fair!" 

He half laughed, holding her face in his hands. His thumbs tried in vain to smooth the frown out of her face. "Hell hath no fury..." 

"He called my paper _unsubstantiated drivel_!" She complained, scowling so severely her green eyes darkened several shades. "I should have him stuffed and placed on my mantle!" 

"You don't have a fireplace and I would suppose that it would be a fire hazard if you did, but that is neither here nor there," he reasoned, smirking. "The review was mean-spirited, I admit, but you should reply in a level-headed manner." 

"Why do _I_ have to be level headed?" The pout returned to her face, the anger receding just the smallest bit that he could see the amber flecks in her eyes, once more. "Fine. I'll consider a redraft." 

He smiled warmly, gesturing vaguely toward the living room. "Does that mean you'll get the cat off the sofa, or...?" He laughed through the pain of Alex jabbing him in the shoulder. Pressing his lips to hers he felt only a soothing buzz rattling against his skull, like white noise lulling him to sleep. There was a groan akin to a growl at the back of his own throat that caught him aback. He would have orbed literally anywhere else at the moment if it weren't for the smile currently against his lips and the prickling energy that made his heart skip several beats. If he weren't guaranteed survival against death by natural causes, he'd be worried about the organ giving out. She pulled at his cardigan, dragging him with impressive force until he was flush against her. The moment he had slipped an arm around her waist, fingers gripping the warmed skin bared by her crop top, was the moment he forgot about whatever it was she had been angry about a moment prior. 

"Hey, Har?" He hummed a noncommittal response. "Your carrots are burning." 

He jumped away immediately. "Shit," he gasped, blinking away the drunken stupor and turning to the stove with blushing cheeks. He scolded himself, internally. He was going to have to learn how to control himself. Still, there was nothing but happy feelings in his bones and he knew it was all to do with the subtle giggling happening beside him. Casting a sidelong glare, he couldn't help but let a corner of his lips curl upward in amusement. 

"You're cute when you're embarrassed." 

"I beg your pardon," he sputtered. "I am poised, regal, distinguished, and –" 

"An antique?" She offered, distractedly running her fingertips over some parsley sitting on the windowsill. "Because you're describing your coffee table." 

"Well, that coffee table is _contemporary_ to me, so..." He nodded towards the parsley, briefly. "Don't get too attached. He's going for a trim, soon." The Brit felt his face heat up further, if possible, as he watched the woman magically perk up the herb and mutter some words that made the parsley flourish and plump. Watching her perform magic always felt like an intimate affair, and he would consider whether or not he should look away or not. The romancer caught his eye and offered him a sultry wink, knowing it would push his buttons. "You do this just to rile me up." 

Alex snorted. "Yeah. I absolutely _hate_ kissing you, and personally, I hate the British. This has all been a clever ruse to bring down the patriarchy, the monarchy and the Elder council in one fell swoop." Snatching a steaming carrot, she bit off a piece, huffing momentarily due to the temperature. "It's not like you can sense my feelings or anything," she grumbled, giving him a knowing look. 

He grabbed a glass from an overhead cupboard and filled it with cool water from the tap offering it to her to ease the burn on her tongue. "It's hard enough to live with just _me_ in my head." 

There was a moment of silence between them, Alex was busy licking her fingers from the syrupy glaze from the carrots. "What?" 

The whitelighter shook his head again. Surely it wasn't good manners to distractedly stare at a lady in such a way. God, since when was he such an unevolved beast? He cleared his throat, shrugging. "I have some grading. Wondering when I would get around to it." There was a snickering _uh huh_ in return, and when he deemed himself ready to glance in her direction, her eyes were slowly evaluating his awkward form in a not unkind manner. At first, Harry thought these little moments were she looked near bursting into laughter were just her barely restrained effort not to ridicule him, but he was slowly learning that it was not meant in mean spirit. Alex was almost appreciative of his bumbling attempts at attention, and it had taken him an embarrassingly long time (and a frank conversation with his empathic charge, Maggie) to realize it was because she wasn't used to being the reason for many a stutter and red cheek. So she made him blush so often he wondered whether she was trying for statistical significance. "May I help you, love?" 

Alex shrugged, leaning against the countertop. "Forgive me my morbid fascination with watching you be human, Harry Greenwood." She smirked, scuffing her feet against the floor. "That's just the ecologist in me learning about my subject." Tilting her head side to side, she considered for a short moment before adding. "My subjects are usually plants, though." 

"Do you have a favorite? Plant, I mean." He had wondered for a long time, but had always thought it was a stupid question. 

"Well," she mused, biting her bottom lip while she reviewed in her head, "If I had to choose, it would be a type of oak that only grows back home. In the spring, it sheds all its leaves and gets covered in yellow flowers." Sighing, she shrugged, not really knowing how to explain. "It's not my _favorite_ flower or anything, but there's one in the backyard back home and... I don't know. It's nostalgic, I guess." 

There was an underlying sense of sadness that tugged at his heartstrings. "Do you ever consider going home?" 

"Every day," the botanist answered honestly. "Particularly when it's cold, but what I miss the most isn't there, anymore." 

"I'm so sorry." 

"It's not your fault, but I appreciate it." She offered him a smile that did little to fill the gnawing void opening in his stomach, thinking about their mutual loss of families. The prospect of being part of something bigger didn't ease the pain of the loss. 

He clicked his tongue, deep in thought while he bent to take the trays out of the oven and letting them rest on the stove. "If it's not your favorite, why do you suppose I see lavender?"" 

"No fucking clue." The blunt expression made Harry guffaw, amusedly muttering something about her being a perfect lady under his breath. "I don't think it's to do with me, though." 

"Significance to the beholder rather than the beholden?" He considered the possibility, making a neutral face at the opinion. "I suppose it's as good a reason as any. I just... wish I knew why lavender would be of significance." 

"Don't you ever get tired of talking in such a roundabout way?" She teased. It was certainly not the first time, either. 

Harry huffed, rolling his eyes. "Don't you ever get bored of using such a limited vocabulary?" 

"Not really an issue, when you can use it in four different languages," she retorted, smugly, leaving the whitelighter to flap his mouth open and closed for a second. 

He finally settled for his well-trained sarcasm. "Didn't know _fuck_ was so well-translated." 

"Better fucking believe it, babe." Harry glanced over, giving her a look while trying not to laugh. Surely he shouldn't encourage this behavior, but he was sort of proud of just how uncivilized she was. "I actually came over to talk to you about something, but that review sort of threw me for a loop." 

The man was occupied with putting together two plates of chicken and vegetables. "You mean about the Ecological Diversity conference you're presenting at in New York and have told no one about because you're afraid of potentially getting murdered?" He queried, knowingly, though he couldn't enjoy her eyebrows raising in surprise from his position. "Could you grab some silverware, please?" He tagged on with an easy smile, putting the plates down on the island. His brown-eyed stare followed her as she reluctantly took a seat on her abandoned stool, her laptop having been set aside by the whitelighter. Harry thanked her quietly for the silverware and continued his intense gaze, a little too giddy about having, for once, been ahead of her. "I have a Google Alert on your name. It popped up ages ago." 

Alex pushed a carrot across her plate, frowning. "Why do you have a Google alert on...?" The question was reluctant. "Never mind. I shouldn't go, right?" 

Swigging a his cup of cooled tea, he sighed, sitting on the stool beside her and turning his body towards her. "It astounds me that the most idiotically courageous person I know is afraid of leaving the city limits of a college town." 

The woman took offense, pointing her fork in his direction with a glint in her eyes. "I am not _afraid_ of leaving Hilltowne, Harry. I just... there's a lot of things to consider now. I mean what if I need to submit paperwork for an article? What if you get sent to Tartarus again? Who would take care of Lemongrass Greenwood?" 

He was cutting his chicken with a dismissive look. "You have a laptop. Dear Lord, I hope that's not the case. I'll make sure the bag of fleas survives." He ticked the answers down, the words rolling off the tip of his tongue while his eyes shot over his shoulder to the floramancer. Alex looked blank, distractedly gnawing on a Brussel sprout. Harry knew enough about the woman to know that when that little crease between her eyebrows appeared, that she had hoped for a different response. "Let me put it this way, then. How much better will your chances at funding be if you present at this _international_ conference?" He queried, before smugly stuffing a chunk of chicken into his mouth. 

He speared another chunk and offered it up to her frowning mouth, still grinning. "How dare you use my need for subsidized government research funds against me?" Chewing thoughtfully for a moment, she sighed. "You're going to be really annoyed if I get murdered in the big city." 

"Not as annoyed as you'll be if you let this opportunity pass you by," he remarked lightly, raising a carrot to her mouth for her to reluctantly accept. "Also, I'd be _devastated_ , not annoyed." 

"Didn't think that stiff British upper lip would allow that," Alex offered, trying to be sarcastic, but succeeding only in looking pitifully lost and narrowly resisting the urge to ask for comfort. 

He laughed. "It's only three days, Alexandra. I'm only a whisper away." 

"I guess I'll buy my plane ticket today, then." Alex conceded, filling her mouth with brussel sprouts. "And update my will, I guess. You get my centaur-grown lavender and the cat." 

"I suppose it could be worse," he commented. 

"But you have to change his name to Greenwood Harold Lemongrass." She cut in before he continued his thought. 

"And, there's the caveat I was waiting for." As if on cue, the cat hopped onto the kitchen island, purring loudly as he pawed at the humans for attention.


	22. Retrieval

Harry could remember bringing out the Pixionary. He could remember opening the tome to the pop-up figures of the pixie camp, and he could remember Alex snapping him out of the trance. Quite painfully, he might add. The whitelighter stood nursing his stinging cheek while Macy capped the pixie dust to avoid any other interruptions. 

"You four, as witches, are immune to the whimsy. So are demons," he remarked. 

"Evidently not whitelighters," Macy added, smiling. 

The man winced, a cool flannel being pressed against the reddened cheek by the same person who had just slapped him across the face. "Was that entirely necessary?" 

"Believe me, if you had seen yourself you'd want to be put out of your misery, too," Alex responded, following the cold cloth with a slathering of the bruise ointment she was so fond of making. "Sorry, I had to draw the line when you suggested we held hands and sang. The rest was pretty entertaining." 

His cheeks were now both coloring substantially, and a sheepish expression overtook him. "Right. Feel free to intercede faster, next time." The group began parsing out duties to contain the get the situation under control. The whitelighter stood from the table, straightening out his leather jacket and glasses with a smile and prodding at Alex in the ribs. "Come with me to the hospital? Keep me safe from pixies." He pointedly ignored the squeak of delight coming from Maggie, who had seemed to be making the noise non-stop since she had accidentally brushed against Alex a few days prior when the botanist had been distracted at lunch. Apparently Alex had many good things to think about Harry, which was mind-boggling to him considering her sarcastic, dark-humored nature. 

Alex feigned a dramatic groan in response. "Oh, I suppose." 

"Thank you. How will I repay your kindness?" He shot back, deadpan, staring narrow-eyed at the woman before deciding that he was never going to win this verbal jousting. "Come on," he whispered, holding his hand, palm up. Alex looked at it for a second before placing her own in its grasp and both of them disappearing. They stumbled back into her flat a few hours later, the floramancer having insisted on him avoiding being alone to avoid any pixie-related accidents. "What? Are you worried about me, Alexandra?" 

The woman frowned. "Of course, I am. What kind of stupid question is that?" Honestly, if he were any worse at figuring the woman out he might not have discovered she was a witch, yet. 

The joking expression on his face faltered shortly, being replaced by one of genuine surprise. "Oh." 

"A boy jumped off a building and another jumped in front of a car," she explained, as if it were entirely too obvious, concern clear in her voice. "And if tonight was any indication, you're not exactly in control when exposed to the dust. I'm not letting you out of my sight." With a small smile, she stepped into his personal space, smoothing her hands over his shoulders. "Is that OK?" Harry wasted no time in crashing his mouth against hers, a satisfied sigh escaping him. His fingers twined into the beltloops of her jeans, tugging her closer in a desperate sort of anxiety. "Damn, if I had known you'd be this grateful, I would have said I didn't want you dead ages ago." 

He laughed, awkwardly, brushing his nose in her hair and hiding amidst the lavender-scented curls. "It's strange to have someone so invested in my wellbeing." 

"You've had people invested in your well-being since you got to Hilltowne. If you think for a second those girls would have let you leave their house had you not had anyone to watch you, you're insane," she whispered back, tilting her head to press her lips to his jaw. 

"It's different. I need to be an example for them." 

"No, you don't. You're a fool and all of them know that," she immediately qualified, rolling her eyes. "We need to sleep, though, or else we'll be useless tomorrow." Her hand had untangled one of his from her belt loops, pulling him across the floor towards the bedroom. His body hesitated at the prompt, staring unsurely between her and the door before the woman had turned to glance over her shoulder. "I mean it, Greenwood. You kind of need to be _in my sight_ for me not to let you out of it," she remarked. "I don't bite," she added, smirking. His feet were still leadened to the floor, an anxious energy going up and down his spine. "I can always sprinkle you with pixie dust, if it'll help." 

"You don't need it," he whispered back, following her dutifully and feeling a little giddiness that had nothing to do with the pixie, though he'd never admit it aloud. 

The morning greeted him with sun streaming from the windows and trees lending shade over the bed. Lemongrass lay curled against his outer right thigh, a beacon of heat against his leg. Alex was still asleep beside him, on her side with her hand holding onto his upper arm and her left leg curled around his. Her body felt impossibly cool against his, like grass dotted with morning dew that made him shudder at the contact. She looked a glorious mess, oversized shirt crumpled and revealing a swatch of her stomach just above her Groot-themed pajama shorts. She twitched in her sleep, dreams having taken her to faraway lands, and he lay entranced with her rhythmic breathing. Waking up like this had to be illegal. Well, his whole relationship _was_ forbidden, so there was that. Harry knew he would happily be skinned by hellfire to spend another hour in his boxers and undershirt watching her dream. However, duty called and his phone buzzed, causing him to blindly reach over to the bedside table for his device. There was work to be done and a pixie to catch. 

"Alex, love." With gentle fingers, he brushed her short hair back away from her face, feeling her emotions cut in and out as she slept. It took a minute for her to stir, her whole face pinching together as she reluctantly left the realm of sleep. "Good morning. I'm sorry to wake you, but I need to get to the hospital and give the protection potion," he whispered, feeling guilty as she crumpled her brow while she woke. "I didn't want you to wake up to me gone." 

"Hey," Alex started, her mind just now catching up to the rest of her body. She cleared her throat, feeling her voice heavy with sleep. "Take a sip of the potion, too. It won't last long on you, but it should help. I'll see you after your class." With a warm smile, he nodded, making to shuffle out of bed before her hand stopped him and bid him to return to her side. The hint wasn't subtle, and he didn't need much prompting, if he was being honest. The brief kiss felt like they hadn't kissed a dozen times before while also being entirely ordinary and easy. "Be safe for me," she requested, placing a kiss onto his jaw. 

With a whine, he rested his forehead against hers. "I just convinced myself to leave bed, and you go and say that." 

"That's because I'm too tired to be sarcastic. Just, please don't swan dive off a building and make it through the day in one piece. I'm not done being annoying to you," she grumbled, tugging his shirt to kiss him again, her limbs slowly wrapping around his and forcing him near until no more space remained between them and they were short of breath. "Go. You're going to be late." 

"Right. I'll see you later," he whispered, stealing one more kiss, trying not to think about the fact that she tasted of the lemon and lavender scones they sold at the corner bakery as he left the room without chancing a backwards glance. 

\-- 

"Alex, do you think you could get some more flowers at the top so we can hang cotton candy from them?" Maggie asked, tying little baubles and bells from the colored strings of the pixie trap. 

With a nod, Alex pulled herself off the floor, brushing off her jeans and wiping off the sprinkles on her hands on her black t-shirt. "Any preferences?" 

"It says that small wildflowers are best. Baby's breath, dandelions, daisies, stuff like that," the empath replied, skimming over the book with a look of intense concentration. The floramancer nodded, and Harry watched with fascination as she straightened her posture and stood on the tip toes of her old, scuffed Converse and extended her hands towards the top of the trap, several feet away. The movement of her hands made it seem like she was crafting each flower, one by one, as they appeared above her head. After a few minutes, she let her arms fall to her sides, a pant escaping her from the physical exertion of the magickry. His head swam briefly with her dizziness, and he worried that she was pushing herself too hard. 

Stepping quietly, he placed a hand on the small of her back, moving it in circles. "Are you alright?" 

"Yeah," Alex reassured, immediately. "Conjuring is just... a lot." 

"You did great," he gushed, smiling warmly at her before their attention was pulled by the sound of the sisters giggling and to the fairy currently caught in their trap, seconds later. 

The pixie was half-way through her explanation, crunching through a cookie while Harry and Alex drew nearer. "– the one who stole my heart, that's who. I do what it takes to help him live his best life 'cause he deserves it, guys." The pixie's gaze fell onto the whitelighter, who unbeknownst to anyone else in the room, had fallen prey to pixie dust. "Wait! Epic idea. You know what would be next-level amazeballs? Steal that big old book over there and get me out of here, 'kay?" 

Before Alex had had the presence of mind to pull the man back, he had orbed into the trap and left with the pixie. "Fuck!" She muttered, looking at the list scribbled on the palm of her hand. "1. Conjure flowers. 2. Give Harry potion. I knew I was missing something." 

"What do we do? They're gone!" Mel asked, panic starting to settle in. 

Sighing, Alex, ruffled her hair, internally berating herself for letting their whitelighter get pixie'd. "Lucky for us, I can find our white boy within a sea of white boys," she answered, stepping lightly to consult with the flowers on the trap. _Zach's man-jewelry!_ was what greeted the botanist back to human conversation a few minutes later. "I'm assuming you know the who. I know the where. Come on, we need to get to campus." 

\-- 

Harry had run the length of the room several times, evading the three by orbing to random spots right when someone was about to snatch him. "Alex, can you trap him?" 

"He orbs faster than I can. I keep missing him," she replied to Maggie above the overly loud, obnoxious seventh rendition of London Bridge. "For fuck's sake, I can barely hear myself _think_ ," she growled, tightening her jaw until it hurt. "Harry, shut up!" She added in a yell, gesturing at the Brit, an errant root manifesting out of the concrete floor and tripping him half-way through his skipping. 

Their resident half-demon's face lit with an idea, bracing himself to turn into shadow. "Alex, keep doing that," Parker called, gesturing Maggie to take the other side. Alex groaned, her whole body feeling as if it weighed several tons and sweat beading on her brow from the ridiculous amount of effort she was putting forth. She couldn't conjure plants a month back and now she was trying to bring forth a whole root system. More vegetation sprouted across the floor, making Harry falter in his step until he stopped just long enough for Parker to become mist and trap him a second later. "Got him. Maggie!" A second later, the whitelighter was blinking away the confusion of having been in a place with no memory of how he had gotten there. 

"Good catch, Parker," Alex panted, patting the boy on the back with a half-smile. "Good job, Mags." She pointed an index finger severely at Harry, glowering. "And, you! You have _one_ job." For a brief moment, the three watched the recently rescued man blink heavily before stumbling backwards into the sofa behind him and promptly fall asleep with a smile on his face. Alex rolled her eyes, swallowing the half-dozen curses she had for him poised on the tip of her tongue. "Break up with your girlfriend, they said. Date the whitelighter, they said. _It'll be great_ , they said," she muttered to herself, angrily, though she was propping his legs up on the sofa and placing a pillow under his head while Parker and Maggie shared a wide-eyed look and tried not to laugh. 

Harry gasped awake several hours later, sitting up far too fast in his bed, feeling like he had the mother of all hangovers. The clock beside his bed read 3:44 am. Looking down, he noted that he was in the undershirt and boxers he had put on this morning after he had left Alex's, but could not recall stripping for bed. Actually, he couldn't recall a damn thing after the attic. He tried to place the last several hours and all he could get were hazy, half-memories that didn't make sense. Other than some vague memories of running around the hall and Alex being cross at him, there wasn't anything he could put his finger on. _Alex_. He could remember her fear, her anxiousness, her relief, her anger. More importantly, he could feel her breathing beside him. 

With a cursory glance, he found the brunette with one leg wrapped in his bedsheets, splayed in what had to be the most uncomfortable position known to man. He smiled, noting that she had made herself comfortable in one of his t-shirts. Releasing a breath he did not notice he was holding, he lay back down in bed, his arms reaching out for the floramancer and remained unsatisfied about her position until she was tightly bound beside him. 

"If you get kidnapped by a pixie ever again, I will murder you," the seemingly asleep woman muttered, looking over her shoulder to peek at him with one eye open. "I mean it. The energy I've spent conjuring today is roughly the energy I would spend convincing myself to slit your throat." 

"I can only apologize," he retorted, his voice low in his throat, tracing patterns onto her hip with his fingers. "It wasn't my intention to get kidnapped by a pixie." He brushed his lips against her throat affectionately, earning him a laugh. Before he could repeat the action, he had been flipped over, and Alex sat on his thighs with a smile on her face as she reached down to cup her hands around his face and kissing him as fiercely as she possibly could. His only reaction was to sit up and place his hands on her hips and muttering how wonderful she was amidst flashes of affection, lust, love looping through her mind. Well, not his _only_ reaction, but since he was still rather muddled from the pixie dust, he decided that he might as well let himself slide, just this once, in his sense of decorum. 

It was a matter of seconds before hands were tugging at clothes to expose warmed skin. The whitelighter had his mouth clamped onto the floramancer's neck, allowing gentle mewls to escape her throat while his hands delved beneath the shirt and skimmed upward, much like hers were doing, as well. Further up her torso, far from where her crop tops usually stopped, her skin was littered with small, needle-like scars and places where bones had poked and prodded through her skin when the van took her last breath. He had all but stopped his ministrations to distractedly run his fingers over the shiny tissue, taking them in with a frown. "Hey. They're just scars." She must have sensed his emotion, for when his eyes locked with hers she smiled and brushed his cheek with her hand. "I'm alright, Har." With little more than a push, he had sent her hurtling backwards onto the mattress with a little shriek of surprise that he quickly swallowed with a kiss before following his projected path of meeting every scar on her body.


	23. Separate missions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff? Fluff.

_Tragically helpless_ would be the way Harry Greenwood would describe the first 24 hours without Alexandra in Hilltowne. Never mind that the demon spawn that was meant to be her cat had destroyed his living room overnight, but he had spent a good portion of the day before stuck in the alternate universe of one of Macy's guilty pleasures. Needless to say, catching up with the botanist over the phone had been a chore in and of itself. Well, he _said_ it was a chore when Mel had asked him how Alex was taking being out of town, earlier. In reality, there had been a mixture of anxious anticipation and dread when he had scrolled through the contacts on his mobile and dialed her number. 

He rolled his eyes at the breathless rant coming from her side. "For the millionth time, Alexandra –" 

"Don't give me that pedantic tone, Harry Greenwood!" The woman hissed down the line, making the whitelighter flinch in response. Had he not been alone in his flat, with no one to witness him but the ebony cat lounging on the back of the sofa, he would have been embarrassed about the way he had stuttered to a stop, mid-step. "I've been gone _a day_ and in that time you've gotten stuck in an alternate dimension, let loose a fictional demon in Hilltowne, Macy's demon side is creeping up –" 

"I didn't exactly plan for it, now did I?" He snapped back in irritation, recovering a fraction of his nerve, balancing the phone between his ear and his shoulder so he could go around the living room, picking up the remainders of broken knickknacks and fallen over picture frames. He looked demented in his pajamas and dressing gown with his hair poking out in all directions. Apparently the kitten liked making his bed in people's hair, which his owner had failed to mention. It only added to the irked persona he seemed to have become in the past six and a half minutes.

There was a frustrated sigh on the other end. "I'll catch the next flight back." 

"Why the fucking hell would you do that?" Harry growled, tossing some broken glass into the waste basket in his hand. "You know, I could function just fine before I met you. You know that right?" 

There was a scoff in response, and the Brit immediately wished he could swallow not only the words, but the bratty attitude that came with it. "Yeah, it's not you I'm worried about, jackass." There was a scuffling noise on the line and a whispered _I'm not talking to you, sir. So, please fuck off._ before her voice returned. "Getting stuck in bad situations happens; it's part of the job, but Maggie is hooking up with a half-demon, though heaven knows I love that boy, and Mel's been getting too comfortable with the S'arcana. So much shit could have happened and _you_ were nowhere to be found. Not to mention that you convinced Macy to contact _Charity_ of all people." 

Though he was still annoyed, his anger was rather fleeting. Leave it to Alex to be so entirely invested in the welfare of witches that had a whole magical army at their disposal, even if she was weary of said army. "What would you have me do, Alexandra? I'm not equipped to deal with whatever is happening to Macy." 

"Then you look for books, you talk to ancients, to demons, to fairies, to whatever and whoever might help. You don't hand deliver them to people who have a record of abandoning their own in times of need," she said in a whisper, most likely because she was in a crowded ballroom trying not to sound like a lunatic to other scientists. The whitelighter remained silent, opting to keep his mouth shut and swallow his tongue rather than say anything worse than he already had. With a sigh, he plopped onto the sofa, looking wearily at the black cat who sunk into his lap a moment later and rubbed itself affectionately against him. He felt his body relax at the contact, making him half-forget the fact that the kitten had ransacked his condo in a night-time rave. "Look, I'm not suggesting that you don't know how to do your job or you don't know what's best for the girls, it's just – it's hard to look at it from your perspective." 

"I understand, and I know you have their best, interest at heart, but you surely can see that I do, as well. Charity's help is the best I can offer her. Yes, I'm skeptical and I don't trust them further than I can throw them, but this was my only choice." He sighed, feeling the constricting knot that had been building in his chest ease significantly and allow him to breathe freely, once again. "I swear everything is under control, for now." 

She was quick to respond to his assurance, anxiety biting at the heels of her words. "I can still catch –" 

Harry smiled reflexively. "Ale, come on. You can't use this as an excuse not to finish your conference." 

"That's something I haven't heard in a while." The man grunted in question, distracted by the soft belly presented up at him by the playful kitten. "You called me _Ale_. Not Alex or Ally, even. No one's called me that since my grandmother died." 

"Oh. I didn't even notice I did it, to be honest," he responded and there was a small noise of assent on the other side of the line. "It's not to say that we don't want you back home, you know. The cat's been impossible without you. I reckon he misses you." 

"Just the cat?" He could practically hear the smile on her face, which made him split into a grin, himself. 

"Of course not." Before she could get in another word, edgewise, he added. "I guess Maggie wouldn't mind having you back, either." 

"Asshole." Her sentiment was decidedly lost among the giggling coming from her mouth. "How's the menace?" 

A laugh ripped from his throat, and he took a quick second to take stock of the little black tuft of fur purring contentedly with his eyes closed, every now and then a little paw patting his hand to redirect his attention. "Knocked down everything in the living room and is currently getting a belly rub because why would I even _attempt_ to reprimand him?" 

"That would be a moth chase, yes. Sorry about that," she responded. He could imagine her attempting to look contrite, but secretly proud of mischief her feline companion had gotten up to. "Well, that or a razor wing demon. He's wrecked my living room chasing both." 

"Chased a demon? Good job, Lemongrass. Who's a good boy?" he cooed, tickling the kitten enthusiastically, making the critter wriggle. 

Alex snickered. "Weren't you just complaining that he wrecked your living room?" 

"You've wrecked my inner peace for ages, and I still keep you around." He teased, getting comfortable in his seat and letting out a small groan as the cat decided to scale his torso to get to the top of the couch. 

"Keep me around? _Me_?" Her tone was one of humorous disbelief. "You sure about that?" 

"I said what I said," he doubled down, ruffling his hair into a messier state than what the familiar had mussed it. There was the sound of her muted voice, speaking in rushed sentences to someone on the other side of the line. "Do you have to go?" 

"I'm proctoring one of the sessions and they need me to set up. I'm sorry, it looks like I do have to leave you," she said with a sigh, almost reluctantly. Well, most definitely with reluctance. She was about to face a room full of other humans. He was surprised she hadn't just run off, entirely. 

"Go ahead. Lemongrass and I will make do on our own, I suppose," he quipped. "Ale?" 

"Yeah, Har?" She whispered. 

"Enjoy your conference, but hurry home, will you? I miss you," he said in a considerably lower tone, eking a dreamy sigh from her side that made him feel bubbly inside. 

"I'll see what I can do about that." There was another short exchange on her side. "OK. I really have to go. I'll see you soon. I miss you, too. _Oh my God, I heard you the first time, Karen_. Fine. Sorry, Harry. See you. Love you. Bye," she rushed before there was groan on the line. "Not love you like _love you_ , just – ugh, I don't have time. Pretend I didn't say anything. I'll talk to you later if I don't die of embarrassment. Bye." 

The line went dead and Harry put the mobile down with an easy grin on his face that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. He turned his head only to find himself face to face with the feline curiously staring at his mirth. A small strangled meow left his throat which made Harry smile even wider. "Let's make ourselves useful, elsewhere, shall we?" Another meow followed. "Come on. Off to work. Maybe my students will actually _pay attention_ today."


	24. Special Pass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little fluffer for the first of Spring.

Wednesday mornings were meant to be the late-morning, sleep-infused sanctuary that Harry Greenwood looked forward to every other day of the week. He had no classes or office hours on those days, and most of the time, if there were no demon-related activities going on, the whitelighter made a point of sleeping in and working from home. Though today was one of those blessed Wednesdays, but Harry had shuffled out of bed before dawn. Groaning under his breath, lamenting the loss of his lazy morning, the man quickly showered and tugged on his version of "dressed down" clothes: grey slacks and an olive cable-knit jumper. It was possibly the only clothing combination that neither his charges or the floramancer had suggested had come out of an old man's wardrobe. Harry knew he would have to look _normal_ today. He also knew that if he was to accomplish everything he wanted to, he needed to get a move on. So, in spite of every complaint his body was offering, he collected his keys, mobile and a bag, and was out the door before he could give himself an excuse to crawl back into bed. 

At half past ten, Harry orbed into the lush green paradise that was Alex's living room, leaves crunching underfoot. The room seemed undisturbed by his presence, the plants having long stopped their swaying and shuddering whenever he arrived in favor for a motionless greeting into the abode. He assumed he had won them over, or at the very least was no longer seen as a threat, as they now failed to raise alarm at his arrival. Wiping his brow with the sleeve of his jumper, the whitelighter pulled the messenger bag off over his head, tossing it on the couch with little concern for its contents where it landed with a heavy thud. A cursory glance beside the door showed Alex's backpack and school things sitting at the entryway, meaning the botanist was still in. The kitchen was empty, so he assumed that the woman was still blissfully asleep, as he very much wished he was. Still, smiling politely at the greenery, he stepped lightly across the corridor, passing the heavy-laden bookshelves and stopping just short of the bedroom door. 

The door itself still bore a crack near the handle where the wood had yielded so he could gain access to her bedroom all those nights ago when she was writhing in pain. _Plant menses_ , he remembered, using the same joking terminology that the botanist had given it, after the fact. She thought it was hilarious; he thought his dreams were still haunted by her screaming weeks later. Leave it to Alexandra to make light self-deprecation of an awful situation. With a sigh, he raised his right fist to knock quietly on the door. He listened by the entryway for a reply. Nothing and no one was calling back, not that he was expecting much – Alex _did_ sleep like the dead. With little more than a flick of his wrist, he moved turned the knob just enough for the door to creak open, and he slipped inside. 

The bedroom was just as he remembered. Warm and well-lit, with sun streaming in from a floor to ceiling window across from the bed. The bed itself was nestled within a leafy canopy of seemingly impossible proportions. Weeping willows and violet trees lent their shade over the bedroom furniture; a handful of ferns flanked the head and maintained the room both humid and cool. It was an amazing feat of magic and Harry, for the hundredth time, taunted himself for being stupid enough not to notice that something was off about her, in the first place. She was almost a comical representation of a floramancer. Atop of the white and cream-topped bed lay a mess of sheets, crumpled and in disarray with a lone leg sticking out of one corner. Nearby, Lemongrass snoozed in a corner, soaking in a sunbeam. The cat, he thought, was an equally comical portrayal of a floramancer's familiar. Smirking, the whitelighter kicked off his shoes and padded quietly, giving the waking kitten a cursory pat before attempting to untangle the bedclothes from the witch. 

"Aaa-lex," he whispered, singsong, having caught sight of dark curls and peeled back the sheets to find her face. "Wakey wakey," he added, watching the floramancer frown and attempt to hide in the sheets, once again. 

"No," she replied, shortly, sounding like an irritated toddler and not a college professor. 

"Ale?" There was a muffled _mmh-mmh_ and a pronounced pout in reply. "Alexandra, you've got to be kidding me. Wake up!" 

" _Noooo_ ," she riposted, having pulled the sheets out of his grasp and rolled over, effectively adding another layer to the fabric puzzle. 

A deep breath was taken, the man flexing his jaw in an effort to consolidate his responses into _people friendly_ alternatives. Honestly, this woman made him consider homicide. Did he think she was adorably magnificent? Yes. Did his heart make weird stuttering patterns whenever she walked into the room? Also, yes. Would he have downright murdered anyone else who was as snarky, sarcastic and teasing as her? You're fucking right, he would have. And, yet... 

Rolling his eyes, the Brit clambered into the bed, ignoring the small whine that loosed from her throat as the mattress dipped under his weight. He spent a moment deciphering where Alex's head had gone since she turned last, prodding what he could find of her side with an index finger. The witch wriggled with a yelping laugh, squirming closer to him as her quest for warmth clearly betrayed her desire for avoiding interruptions to her rest. Harry could only place his hand on her hip and smile, quietly grateful for the mild sunburn he had acquired (damn his delicate English genes) that radiated the heat she craved. "It's a shame, really. If you don't get out of bed," he started, his voice barely a whisper in a low timbre, "I'll have to get Maggie. She'll do her whole empath thing, and you will be in _so much trouble_ for not telling her or her sisters about today. But, as ever, it's your choice, really," he finished, giving her hip a quick squeeze before straightening up to a sit and counting to three in his head. 

Right when the count was finished, Alex pulled the sheet away from her face and green eyes glared darkly at the whitelighter. "What do you want, Greenwood?" 

_So predictable_. "Good morning to you, too." Smiling brightly, and eyes crinkling at the corners, he clapped his hands together, excitedly. "Get out of bed. I will tell you over breakfast." 

Alex groaned, rolling her eyes. "Why do you hate me?" 

There was laughter bubbling at the back of his throat, though he managed to contain the smug look that wanted to break through. "Are you always this grouchy in the mornings or is today just _particularly_ bad?" A pillow was hurtled towards his head and temporarily knocked the sense out of his head. "So, the former, then?" 

"Don't you think that if I'm always grouchy when you're around in the mornings, it might have something to do with _you_?" She growled back, nestling into the sheets as if she would dissolve into the soft cotton if she tried hard enough. 

"Ouch. I'm starting to think it's the latter," he pressed, in jest, reveling in the vitriol brewing in her stare. 

"Either you get your ass over here and kiss me or you leave me the fuck alone. I honestly do not care which one you pick," She irrupted, in a growl, which he had to admit went really well with the messy state of her hair. " Actually, no, I hope it's the second, because you're being ultra-annoying." 

Harry snorted, tickled pink. In all honesty, her barely veiled threats were a highlight of his day. It gave him a constant reminder not to take himself too seriously, for she was going to take the piss out of him, regardless. "Sure, I'll get right on that." He mumbled, drily, earning him another smack round the head with a pillow. Alex was preparing another volley when he caught her wrist in his, easily pinning it down above her head. Taking a moment to slide his gaze upon the scene, he bent to kiss her, a little shiver running down her spine at the action. With a barely-there smile, he righted himself after a moment, leaving her to chase his lips. 

"No, no. Where are you going? That's the first bearable thing you've done all morning!" She argued, her hands tugging at his jumper in an effort to bring him back. 

" _The lady doth protest too much, methinks_ ," he replied, with what he could only describe as a shit-eating grin. "I'll be making breakfast. You do _whatever it is_ you do at this hour on a Wednesday." He declared, gesturing noncommittally before he scooped the black cat at the foot of the bed in his arms. "And I'm taking the demon." Harry laughed to himself, listening to the woman mutter to herself about unfair circumstances as she reluctantly pulled herself out of bed and into the adjoining bathroom. 

Alex had appeared some twenty-odd minutes later, hair wet and brushed back, dressed in an oversized green pullover and jean shorts. She seemed to have been dragging her feet across the floor in complaint, an action he was all too familiar with, at this point. Her attitude perked up considerably, he noticed, once she was within sniffing range of food and she sidled up to the kitchen, attempting to look nonchalant. He pretended not to notice her excitement. "Grilled cheese?" 

"Rarebit," he countered, over his shoulder, pulling the tray out from under the broiler with heavy oven mitts. 

Alex frowned. "So, fancy grilled cheese?" 

The whitelighter rolled his eyes, fully aware the woman was trying to get his goat. "If you want to boil down hundreds of years of tradition and recipe perfecting into such simplistic terms, then yes." He set the steaming tray atop the stove, tugging off the mittens and pushing the sleeves of his jumper up to his elbows. 

The botanist had moved behind him, if the crackling energy behind him and the wafting scent of lavender was any indication. She was standing atop her tiptoes in an effort to make herself tall enough to look over his shoulder as he plated some toasty bread and cheese on a flat dinner plate. "Har, your grilled cheeses are messed up. They're missing a lid." 

"Is it possible for you to be any more annoying?" He asked through a chuckle, leveling his gaze at her. The expression he got in return was just a veiled attempt at begging him to dare her. Harry, however, knew better than to give into temptation... well, most of the time. "Go sit and attempt to behave." There was a groan of protest, followed by the woman going limp, making unhappy noises against his back. Truly, she was definitely not a morning person. He managed a half turn, holding the plates above her head with a laugh. "Go on, you menace. Stop whinging." Bending at the knees, he pecked her lips with a satisfied groan, before gesturing her ahead with his head. 

Alex extricated herself from his body just long enough to sink into a seat at the table, where two cups of tea already sat, steaming and waiting for someone to sip. Clicking her tongue, she called the ebony tuft of fur to her and had him hop onto her lap, both waiting for the Brit to join them at the table. As soon as he did, she asked, "Why am I up, Harry?" 

"Do I need a reason to give up my day off to wake up at dawn and go on an expedition so I can have breakfast with you?" The botanist narrowed her gaze and twisted her mouth at him in disbelief. "I have something for you," he insisted, as if he had been repeating himself all morning. 

"Is it an R01? Because that’s the only thing I'd _really_ like," she riposted, before taking a long sip from her tea and sighed, despite her desire to be as bratty as humanly possible. 

"I'm sure interfering with funding agencies will be seen as some sort of personal gain, and I would rather we didn't have to suffer the consequences," Harry explained, smirking. 

Alex snorted, rolling her eyes. "I _already_ sold my soul in grad school. What the worse that can happen?" 

"I sometimes worry about your mental health, Alex. I really do," he said, drily, frowning at her impish grin. "Fine. As you seem to be unable to concentrate on anything," he started, standing from the table and disappearing into the living room. He returned with a manila folder that had been in his bag, which he promptly handed to her. "Here you go." 

"Well, that's definitely not what I had in mind when you said you had something for me." Confused and with furrowed brow, she plucked the folder from his grip, meeting his purposefully unreadable gaze for a split second before she flipped it open. Inside resided two pictures, smiling faces identical to hers staring up from the page. Harry watched her reactions, closely. At first, it was shock that mostly filled her features, but sadness came in a close second before nostalgia swept them all away. Her green eyes watered, and through the tears leaking from the corner of her eyes, she smiled, glancing back up at his expectant gaze. "This is... how'd you..." 

"I asked around," he said simply, abandoning his breakfast in favor of propping his head on his clasped hands and watching her examine the two pictures closely. In the first, an elegant black and white, were her grandparents, dressed to the nines on their wedding day. Her grandfather, tall, smartly dressed and head full of dark hair carefully brushed back beamed at the camera beside what could have been Alex's doppelganger in a long-sleeved white dress in precisely curled hair. The second photograph was a grainy color picture with Alex's grandparents, now older, sitting with her parents, fresh-faced and delighted, holding a tiny, pink, curly-haired bundle wrapped in an appropriately floral blanket. "Your neighbor was especially helpful. He still checks the house. Every Friday, religiously." 

She laughed before sniffling, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "You met Ramón." 

"I did, indeed. It went leaps and bounds better than I thought it would." There was a moment of silence before he added. "Apparently, it was pretty common knowledge in town that your family was... _different_." 

"My grandmother grew cranberries in a subtropical island. We weren't exactly subtle. Apparently, I was the only one too stupid to catch on," she retorted, deadpan, though she shot him a smile when she caught his eye. "Thank you, Harry. This is... really nice." 

He raised an index finger to gesture her to wait. "Not quite done. I did more than just rifle through your personal belongings. I actually did some research." He went to grab another folder, this one full to the seams with papers which he set on the table before he sat down again. "I managed to track down other floramancers, ones in the Caribbean. Don't worry, I didn't ask anyone you need to be worried about," he reassured when her face filled with concern. "They keep the most impeccable records of all the floramancer families." He leafed through yellowed pages worth of detailed notes. "In Puerto Rico, the earliest floramancers on record created the rainforest and populated the mountain ranges with plant life. The native taíno people, seeing these feats, thought they were gods and gave them the name –" 

"Yukiyú... or Yúcahu. God of creation for the taínos." There was a beat of silence before she added with raised brow, "You're kidding." 

Harry smiled, biting his lip. "I am most definitely not. Yúcahu was the ancestor for all floramancers in the Caribbean, maybe even the Americas. It's warm, humid, optimal temperature for planting year-round. It's ideal really." 

Alex had not really gotten past the first point, and so she stared at space as if it had the answer to all her questions. "I'm descended from gods." 

"Well, what people _thought_ were gods, but yes," he amended, taking out some papers and laying them out on the table, showing the direct line of floramancers up to Yúcahu. "Then, whitelighters and floramancers coming from Spain and Africa from the colonization and slave ships started combining with the line. That explains why the gene pool is so small, but you don't look inherently different from any other Puerto Rican. The crossings were, generally, the same. It's quite remarkable if you ask me," he said, excitedly, watching with amusement as the woman leaned over the table to pore over the papers spread out over the surface. "I'd have loved to ask Yúcahu how she met her whitelighter back in those days; if it was coincidence or just brought together by magic. It must be annoying that everyone thinks she's a male deity, but she must be over it by now. They all said she's a lovely person," Harry rambled, sorting another handful of papers. 

A hand stilled his exuberant paper shuffling. "Wait, what?" Alex interrupted, stopping his train of thought. "That's insane. She would have to be, at least –" 

"A thousand years?" Harry filled in, smiling. " Yeah, it struck me as odd, as well, but they showed me a recent picture of her riding the flume ride at Disney World. Doesn't look a day over ninety, if you ask me." 

"You're a hundred," she offered. 

The whitelighter smiled broader and shrugged. "It's complicated." 

"My grandparents –" 

"Glamours," he interrupted. 

"This is bonkers." For a second the woman looked a little peaky, and Harry was quick to shove some rarebit into her hands and let her automatic response of eating it take over. She crunched over the toast for a few minutes, distilling the information in her head before swallowing. "Do all floramancers live that long?" 

"Hard to say. I'm afraid your numbers have been artificially skewed by, well, _homicide_ ," he offered, taking a bite out of his own breakfast, giving her time to process before delivering the last bit of information he had collected. "Pop quiz. What is your grandmother's date of birth?" 

Alex shrugged, looking a little guilty. "I don't know. I don't remember celebrating it and she died when I was too young to do anything about it." 

Harry nodded, expecting the answer. "When's your mum's birthday?" 

"Same answer, I'm afraid. And, now that I hear it out loud, I feel awful," she mused, grimacing. 

"Bear with me, love." He smiled. "When's your birthday?" 

"You _know_ it's today, you dork." Realization dawned on her and Harry thought he could light up a particularly starless night with the bright eyed stare she was giving him. He felt the pieces click in her mind, and an overexcited rush of emotions pulled at him, knotting his stomach in a pleasant rush. "We always blew the candles together," she mused, astounded. "I always thought it was just a cutesy thing, but it was their birthday, too. I was just too young to realize it." 

Harry plucked out two birth certificates, one for her grandmother and another for her mother and lay them in front of her, side-by-side. "First day of Spring, across the board." He smiled warmly, sitting back before he proceeded. "Same question for your dad and grandad. Go on." Alex wracked her brain, trying to extract a morsel of information from the relatively untouched portion of her memories and coming up empty. She offered a shrug in response. 

"What were you doing on the fifth of February this year?" 

Groaning, the woman pinched the bridge of her nose and thought. "That was the snow day, wasn't it?" She hummed before catching the thread of her thoughts and chuckling. "Yeah, they cancelled class and then I spent half the day trying to convince Maggie it was a shit idea to try and make you a b... a birthday cake," Alex finished in a whisper, her eyes going as wide as he ever had seen them. "Now you're just shitting me. It's impossible. I mean, you're whitelighters. You weren't actually _born_ on that date." 

"You're right. It's not the day we were actually born," he conceded, tracing the rim of his tea cup with his middle finger. "From what I gathered, and it's not much – my Spanish is still dismal – your grandad chose the day he met your grandmum at the town fair. Your dad used the date he died. He was saving your mum from being hit by a drunk driver. Both the fifth of February." Two more documents, this time the forged paperwork the Elders supplied all of the whitelighters slid across the table. 

"That just sounds like random coincidence." 

Harry nodded, a bittersweet smile gracing his face at the confused sentiment. Their whole relationship seemed like pre-destined chaos and he was aware Alex wasn't a big fan. "I thought so, as well, at first. I said as much to the other whitelighters. Then, they framed the events differently." He swigged from his tea and pushed the cup away so he could lean on both his elbows on the table. "Your grandad fell in love with a girl he met at a party and then chose to leave the Elders, despite the threat of death. Your dad, a mortal who could not have seen your mother's mark, chose to dive in front of a car to save your mum, whom he didn't know. And then he fell in love with her, even when he forgot his old life. I chose to take this new assignment in Hilltowne even when I felt I was in no position to do so. Turns out it's not really _fate_ dictating anything, as it is ourselves _choosing_ to remain." He sighed, shrugging helplessly. "One of the couples I met was a whitelighter who had been sent to ensure the capture of the floramancer. At last second, he hid her in the caverns." He watched the woman worry at her bottom lip with her teeth, staring blankly at the reflective surface of her tea while she thought long and hard about the implications of this discovery. "I hadn't seen your tattoo until the day I learned you were a witch, and I am more than certain that I had seen your bare back prior." 

"Harry... you never told me that," she said softly, running her hands over Lemongrass' back in an effort to soothe herself. 

"I never thought it was relevant, until this morning." He laughed, a little uncomfortably. "Turns out, it _was_ my fault I could see it. I had chosen to protect you before I had even allowed myself to think about it." Closing the now empty folder, he sighed, feeling sort of awkward, despite his initial excitement. "Well, that's... er… all I had for you." 

Though his gaze was on the half-eaten toast and cheese, he couldn't help but be hyper aware of her gaze weighing heavily on his skin. She was making sure to observe every inch of him in his awkward position, now wishing he had at least finished breakfast before breaking the story. The sound of her chair scraping back prickled at his ears, along with the catty complaints of the familiar being booted from her lap. A hand on his shoulder gently pushed him back. The chair's removed position from table, from his getting up to fetch papers from the counter, meant that the floramancer could easily slip between him and the oak. Settling on his lap, she pulled his face to hers, joining in the sort of kiss that made his skin prickle with electricity. He sighed, regretfully pulling away though his mind became fixated on how she left the lingering taste of builder's tea on his tongue. Her touch was decidedly more delicate and deliberate than he had felt it before. 

On a normal day there was, more often than not, a passing touch; a kiss. Sometimes more. Alex's reactions were never gentle or patient. They were all-or-nothing responses of passion that were short and sweet and left him wondering what had happened and how it had even started. It very rarely provided him the necessary moments to rationalize his actions before they happened. Now, however, she was giving him all the time in the world to overthink and he found himself not needing or even wanting the time. He could think about how kissing her would spell his doom at a later date. Hell, they were already well aware that they were likely to be murdered for even _knowing_ each other, much less... actually, he didn’t ever want to think about it. 

"Hey, Har?" She had just deposited a kiss on a soft spot just under his jaw that made him sigh appreciatively. He hummed in acknowledgement. "You're grilled cheese still doesn't have a lid," she whispered before she giggled, extracting a guffaw from the dead serious whitelighter and prompting him to cup her face and press a short but passionate kiss against her lips. 

"You're bloody impossible," he whispered still close enough that their mouths brushed against each other. 

"You like it, anyway," she teased, toying with the hem of his jumper and giggling impishly. 

Harry breathed deeply, a ghost of a smile on his lips as he realized that nothing could turn this situation dour, right now. "I adore it." Though his mouth had run off with little consultation from his brain, he was still pleasantly rewarded by a smattering of red on her cheeks and a tingling heat beneath his fingers on her face. He wanted that excitedly terrified expression ingrained on her face for the rest of eternity. He nodded to himself, deciding he should allow them both some time to cope and to maybe enjoy the last remnants of blush on her cheeks. "Eat your breakfast. I'm meant to distract you until the afternoon, per Maggie's orders." 

"You told Maggie!?" The botanist exploded, immediately after. 

"Of course, I did. I'm not an idiot," he replied sarcastically with a roll of his eyes. God, she was rubbing off on him. 

"Traitor," she hissed, pouting, though her hands were still dancing on his torso in a not unpleasant manner. "Wait, _how_ long do we have?" Her green gaze leveled with his in a significant manner. 

The whitelighter raised a single eyebrow, looking pleasantly surprised. "However long you want, love," he breathed, his voice hitching in his throat. 

"Good." Alex bit her lip, looking at him coyly from under her eyelashes. "You can help me bathe Lemongrass." With a quick hop, she was on her feet a second later, chasing after the ebony tuft of fur. 

An hour later, Harry sat on the floor of the bedroom, his back against the bark of a weeping willow. The olive cable knit jumper was sodden, a fantastic reminder of the battle of the bathtub. Lemongrass had meekly tip-toed its way into his lap, purring and keeping his head low as he shyly sought refuge in the whitelighter. The kitten had turned out to be quite opposed to the idea of a warm bath and there had been a veritable amount of splashing, hissing, and escape attempts at the top of the process. Now the kitten looked quite ashamed of his earlier behavior and looking for forgiveness and affection. With a smile, the Brit scooped the cat up, clicking his tongue pleasantly, much to the feline's content. 

From their position under the tree, Harry watched Alex, exit her en suite, clothes dripping. With one swift move, she tugged her pullover off over her head (he pretended that he was too ensconced on the kitten to notice), and dove into her wardrobe for a fresh top. Her head tilted curiously and bent to collect what he knew was her birthday present from the floor. Draping a t-shirt over her shoulder, she sat cross-legged on the carpet with her parcel, methodically peeling the wrapping paper from the perfectly square box. He unconsciously straightened up to better observe her reaction, anxiously scratching under the kitten's chin as his brown gaze locked onto her form. 

Delicate fingers pried off the top off the box and fished into the tissue-encased contents and out of its bowels, she retrieved a bright yellow flower encased in a block of clear resin mounted on a piece of wood. There was a ghost of a smile on her face at its discovery, and she placed it back onto the tissue just long enough to get her clean, gray t-shirt on before holding it once more and turning it over in her hands. Her cheeks had turned suspiciously rosy, and he noticed that she was sneaking glances over her shoulder at him. Her index finger ran over the inscription on the wood that read _I promise to take you back home, but in the meantime..._ in his tight, loopy scrawl. In one fluid motion, she was on her feet, and teetering on her tip toes to place the flower as the center piece for one of her shelves, along with other knickknacks and framed pictures. 

With her hands in her pockets, she turned away, shuffling ever closer to the whitelighter and familiar, who was comfortably sleeping in his arms. Without a word, Alex sunk beside him, leaning her head onto his shoulder as they both sat in total silence. Harry broke first. "You're awfully quiet." 

"I have been told I have a tendency to overreact, so I'm giving myself time to cool off," she explained, hooking her arm around his and shuffling closer. 

"Let me save you the time. I think the sentiment you're looking for is _thank you_ and not _we should stop kissing because I might get you killed_ ," he quipped, easily, feeling as though he could navigate her sentiments and thoughts with relative ease, now. 

He nudged her in the ribs, extracting a smile from her melancholy state. "Thank you, Harry. I really love my gift," she whispered, sincerely, reaching up to stroke his cheek with her hand. "And I know I won't get you killed," she took in a breath a sighed, "Because at this point of my life, I will not hesitate to act against anyone who crosses you or your charges –" 

"That is terrifying." His hand covered hers on his cheek and he brought it to his mouth to kiss her palm. "And... a little sexy, but that is neither here nor there." A laugh escaped her, despite her intensely serious expression just a moment prior, and she leaned in just enough to press her lips to his. "Loving you isn't boring, I'll tell you that much." 

"What?" Her eyes had become the size of saucers. 

"I said you're not boring!" He repeated in a slightly louder voice, smirking. "Has old age gotten to you, already? Anyway, the girls are waiting on us. Come on," he quipped, putting the kitten down beside him and getting to his feet, making quick work of brushing his trousers of leaves. 

Alex was still blinking in surprise, clumsily shuffling up to her feet. "No, go back to what you were saying about not being boring. I think I missed an essential part of that sentence," she called after him in a rush, nearly tripping her own two feet on the way out. " _Harry!_ "


	25. Behind enemy lines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really did have a feeling about that woman the first second she appeared on-screen and... just... ARGHH

The chamber was wrought entirely out of stone, with runes lining the walls around them and magnifying every molecule of magic amongst them. Harry turned on his heel, doing an excited 360 evaluation of the small vault while Charity did the same, despite Maggie's mocking and Macy's clear interest in other (arguably more important) matters. 

"Don't touch anything," he found himself adding to his explanation, though the sentiment should be pretty self-explanatory. However, given that two of his three charges were now sheepishly retrieving their hands from the stone, the warning was not unwarranted. The whooshing sound of teleportation prickled his ears and for a split second Harry thought he was simultaneously dying and being jolted by electric paddles at the realization of what that meant. He was not ready for this to happen. He certainly had not made any preparations for the situation. 

"Hey, Mags, would it kill you to be a little more specific than _found a creepy room under house while boning Parker_ in your texts? I mean, not about boning Parker, but about literally everything else?" Alex joked, brushing her curls back away from her face with a large grin. The wide-eyed panic that the sisters now bore on their countenance was enough for the floramancer to quickly spin on the spot to look behind her. Harry supposed he held a similar look on his face, for her smile faltered the second her green eyes rested on Charity's figure. "H-hi," she managed to get out, looking braver than he could surmise she felt facing the person who had killed her whitelighter, perhaps more. 

Charity smiled politely, though was thoroughly confused at the presence of a woman she had not seen before in the presence of the Charmed Ones, and so beheld her with a questioning expression. "Hello. I'm Charity, and you are...?" 

"A whitelighter," Maggie irrupted, barely able to contain the anxiety in her body. 

"Decommissioned, of course. Alex used to be a whitelighter, but was hit with a spell that rendered her unable to serve, anymore," Harry quickly invented, taking short strides to her side, attempting to look nonchalant. "Before your time as an Elder, but she made fast friends with Maggie." Harry prayed to every deity that might listen that the concealment spell that was on Alex would contain any memory Charity might have had about the romancer. They just uncovered a giant power magnifying pit, he wasn't exactly prepped to go on the lam. 

"This thorough description isn't suspicious, at all, guys. Thanks," Alex quipped under her breath before shooting Harry a dirty look and mouthing _friends with Maggie?_ at him. The man shrugged, his expression telling the story of having panicked and spewed the first thing that had come to mind. 

The Elder straightened her already flawlessly arranged clothes. Her precisely painted eyes flitted from the bottom up, scouring the professor in her torn jeans and Doctor Who t-shirt, looking the best version of her casually comfortable self. Clinical gaze then took its hold on evaluating the others surrounding this unknown person, especially the whitelighter, who had practically gravitated to her side. Charity's eyes lingered on Alex just a second longer than was comfortable before returning to her amiable, polite smile. "I don't recall Harry mentioning you, but it's a pleasure to meet you, Alex. I'm sorry your service was cut short, but clearly, you still have the best interest of witches at heart." Having timed out her interest in the floramancer, the woman quickly turned away, pulled to the hundreds of carved runes lining the walls of the vault, leaving Alex to wonder whether she had dreamt the conversation. 

The Brit reached out briefly for Alex's hand, giving it a comforting squeeze while the botanist reassured him that, despite her pallor and goosebumps, she was doing OK. With a sharp nod, Harry gestured her to rendezvous with the sisters while he finished up with Charity, his heart finally stammering down to a seemingly normal pace now that he could see that, for the moment, they were fine. If this was Marisol's doing, he should be grateful that she was on 'their' side, and probably should go take some flowers to her grave to thank her. Returning to work was a chore; he tried to maintain his composure, not making any severe changes in how he acted or talked or gave any indication that the woman's presence was anything of note. However, he would be hard-pressed to deny that his body didn't have a mind of its own, taking flitting glances over his shoulder or remaining so hyper aware of her every move that his stance physically shifted whenever she was out of his peripheral vision. For a brief moment he wondered whether or not his actions were weird until he realized that she was silently slipping further into his field of view every time he shifted. 

Harry could pick out Alex's voice whispering with the sister in slow, soothing sentences. Maggie was prone to fits of passion and worry, so it was likely to deter a possible meltdown or to prevent the empath from staging a coup against the Elder for transgressions done to the plant witch. After a few minutes, Alex called out to him and Charity to inform them she was taking the sisters upstairs. They had offered a few words of acknowledgement before they left and Harry felt a brick was lifted from his chest. Putting renewed energy into his work, he was able to follow them up a few minutes later after the Elder had left to update the council and take care of the cryptically titled _other matters_. He found them sitting around the kitchen table, as they often did when they gossiped about school, and work, and _boys_ – in other words, conversations to which he was not invited. Now, however, he was met with Alex sitting casually holding both Maggie and Macy's hands, trying to explain that she truly felt fine and was not suffering from any form of shock. Smiling reflexively, he leaned against the kitchen doorway watching them talk. At any other point of his life, he would have slapped the living daylights out of himself and forced his dopey mind to get a grip. Right now, though, all he wanted to do was bottle this moment in his brain. 

It was Alex's honeyed voice that pulled him from his reverie. "Three and a half hours. I left you for a few hours and the second I come back, I find you nerd-flirting with Charity Callaghan. Disappointing, really." Alex tone was joking despite its content. Well, it was mostly joking – he knew that she probably wanted to wring his neck for confiding in the Elder about her charges, again. Still, her grinning face tilted with curiosity to stare at the pensive whitelighter, forcing a sigh out of his throat. After a beat, he decided to extricate himself from the doorway in favor of standing behind her, a hand on either of her shoulders as he smiled placidly. Instantaneously, her head lolled back to rest against him, winking up at him in her upside down position. "Are you OK?" 

"You know I am. We do, however, need to find Mel sooner rather than later. It's not _great_ that she was gone right when an Elder dropped in," he replied with a nod, before adding under his breath, "For your information, I wasn't flirting with her." 

"Oh, I know. I mean, _come on_ ," she riposted, gesturing herself suggestively, prompting the man to tense his jaw in an effort to keep his witty retort at bay. The two stared at each other intensely, waiting for the other to back down from their stance. 

"Er... you two know you're basically daisy-chained into my head, right? The intense eye-fucking isn't just between the two of you," Maggie quipped, offhandedly, looking between the two adults. One offered a smirk while the other's cheeks turned several different shades of red at the blunt statement. Having an empath in the family definitely was not conducive to having a normal, healthy relationship. 

Before either of them could dig themselves any deeper into the hole, the vacuous sound of someone teleporting upstairs caught their attention. Macy's condition had meant that the house protections on orbing in and out of the house were lifted, just in case the whitelighter needed to quickly zoom in and out with help. It did, however, leave them open to numerous visits from Elders, ancients, and Jada, who liked sneaking into Mel's room when they thought everyone was asleep. It wasn't a full second before Maggie shot up out of her seat and ran up the staircase, taking them by twos, face like thunder. 

"It was nice knowing Mel while it lasted." Macy lamented, just as the shouting match between them started. "Maggie is going to eviscerate her." 

Harry chuckled, making himself useful by putting a kettle to boil for tea. "Far being it for me to judge Mel, or anyone else, on their decisions –" 

"It's arguably your favorite pass time," Alex commented, but was ignored. 

"– but she's been getting in too deep with the S'arcana." 

The eldest sister sighed, propping her head up on her hand. "I don't blame her. It's not like the Elders are very _forthright_." Harry shot her a disappointed look, shortly glancing at his companion in an expresison that clearly read _don't give her more reasons to oppose them_. "I'll still work with them because they are the best chance I've got, but I can feel that they know something that they're not telling me, and –" 

" _If_ there is something they're not telling you –" The whitelighter started, sounding like a facsimile of a broken record, trying to jump ahead of the argument. 

"It's not necessarily because they have her best interest at heart." Alex stated, turning in her seat to stare at him critically as he fidgeted at the stove. _And there it was._

"You know, I'm not as naïve as you think I am, Alexandra." 

"Sometimes, I wonder," she bit out, a little more aggressive than usual, earning her twin expressions of surprise from both Harry and Macy. The grandfather clock chimed the hour and Alex sighed. "I need to get to class. You text me if anything goes on. And I mean _anything_ ," she whispered at Macy, giving the young scientist's hand one last squeeze before backing out of seat. 

Harry held a finger up to Macy and hurried after the botanist, barely catching her wrist before she had disappeared out the door. "I've already told you that Charity was my only option for help. Are you truly going to be angry at me for it?" 

The woman turned on her heel to face him, her face falling into a frown and her jaw flexing tensely. "You're an idiot," she replied, deadpan. 

"I'm sure I am, but why, exactly?" They stood in silence for a long moment before Harry sighed in defeat. Sometimes, dealing with Alex was torture, but only because she assumed that he had any bloody clue about how a normal human's emotions worked. He had gotten too good at being an impartial, logical participant of the war between good and evil, but these four women were putting his tattered, tired feelings through the ringer. 

"I'm worried," she said slowly, watching his face slowly process the weight of her words like a toddler learning a new concept. 

His whole expression softened, the phrase squeezing at his heart. "You don't –" 

She raised a single index finger to silence him, an action, he noticed, could strike fear into his heart at any time. "Macy is exhibiting more demon traits than we know how to handle, Mel spends all her time with the S'arcana but doesn't feel comfortable sharing her experiences because when she says _anything_ you and Maggie jump down her throat, and there's a Vortex Viribus – _yes, I know what it is, don't look so surprised_ – under the house and no real reason for it. And to top it all off, you decide that the one person in the universe fit to help you with the job is-is that _harpy_ that has literally been the center of my nightmares for more than a _decade_ ," she rushed through in a single breath, her cheeks turning red with the effort. "I'm worried about all of you because I care about you and that's what you _do_. If it comes with me being a little _irked_ at you, so be it." 

Harry shook his head with a scoff. "Sometimes I forget how young you are, love." 

"By which you mean I'm being dumb and overreacting," she retorted. "I'm fluent in Patronizing Silent Generation, thanks. You want to tell me how the War was character-building while you're at it? You haven't tried that one, yet." 

"What I _mean_ to say is that those of us with a few extra years under our belt have a past we'd rather forget." 

"Me cago en ti y lo pendejo que eres a veces, coño," she cussed. He assumed it wasn't kind. "You didn't kill someone, Harry. Much less someone from _your_ team! What's worse, you didn't kill a fellow team-mate and then suffer no consequences because it turns out no one gives a shit about the value of who you killed," she hissed, trying to keep her voice down to keep the others from hearing. "That's not _a dark past_ it's a corrupt system." 

"I don't think that's fair, Alex," he countered, anxiously running his hands through his hair in a nervous twitch that was very unlike him. "I know you don't like it, but there are certain channels I have to go through if I have any chance to help – oh, for fuck's sake, can you not look so bloody disappointed in me?" 

Alex chuckled anxiously, something that happened often when they were having some sort of debate. Apparently, whatever leftovers he had of his Mancunian accent seeped through his words when he was upset. "Abuela didn't raise a quiet, servient girl who stood for bullshit..." 

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Believe me, I know. You remind me _constantly_." 

Closing her eyes, she drew a deep breath before she was ready to respond. "There is a difference between doing things right and doing the right thing, Harry. I think you know that." 

He sighed, his shoulders slumping with the action. The bag under his eyes were becoming darker by the minute, it seemed, and, despite her boiling blood, the botanist felt compelled to sidle up to him, pressing her head into his defensively closed form. Releasing a shaky breath, he wrapped an arm around her and placed a kiss onto her temple. "You know that I'm not looking to undermine... I know you're trying to protect... I'm not trying to be a twat." Her tinkling laughter against his chest made him smile and feel a little less of an abject failure, though he could fee her conflicted emotions roiling through his skull. 

"I don't need your justifications. I just want you to be very aware that the choices you make now will affect the long-term," she explained, softly. "We don't have to agree. God knows we don't see eye to eye on most subjects, but I refuse to believe you're capable of turning a blind eye to so many red flags." There were a million oft recited phrases waiting on the tip of his tongue that would not amount to anything. He decided it was a better plan to simply rest his cheek on her crown and avoid the confrontation, altogether, if only for the fact that... well, she wasn't wrong, was she? "Stalemate?" 

"I suppose," he replied, whispering into her curly chocolate hair, inhaling the scent of purple flowers by the lungful. 

She flicked her wrist to glance at her watch. "Shit. I'm going to be late to class." The woman twisted in the embrace managing to steal a kiss from his dejected expression, though her apprehension to leave him when he looked so sullen made for her to feel a little better. "I'll see you later." 

"I love you," he managed to choke out before she had gone too far. The phrase still felt heavy and foreign to his tongue, but his soul felt as though he had made good on some sort of penance whenever he said it, lightening his load. 

Alex, on the other hand, was a woman of action. Waking up to his clothes perfectly ironed, tea on the table and a beautiful woman kissing him under the jaw? Love. Having that same woman growling at him for standing in the path of a demon as bait? Angry love, but still love. Right now, she had settled on winking at him over her shoulder before disappearing from the doorway, giving him one light moment of excitement before the utter misery of arguing consumed him again. The whitelighter groaned to himself, scrubbing a hand over his face as he shuffled his feet back to the kitchen where Macy shot him a sympathetic smile. Surely the week couldn't get any worse could it? Oh, he should learn not to tempt the Universe, because 'lo and behold, the Universe had taken his sentiment and spat it back into his face before the whitelighter even had the opportunity to blink. After a fairly tense day dealing with the Vortex Viribus, switched sisters, and an angry lover, Macy had come back from a run, a half-asleep Alex in tow, talking about she had turned someone into a statue in the quad. 

"When you said _petrified_ I think I was picturing someone cowering in fear and was confused why it was bad, and now I feel stupid," Alex rambled as she leant heavily against Harry. The five of them were standing in the quad, watching as students came to look at the new sculpture, thinking it was some sort of art installation. The romancer, however, was still in her pajamas, very much looking like she had just rolled out of bed and probably just as aware of her environment as if she truly had. On her other side, Maggie held her hand captive and refused to let it go for fear that Mel would make good on her promise to destroy her for touching some eerily glowing rock under the house. Harry rolled his eyes. The sisters were squabbling like children and he was half-afraid that the botanist would suffer hypothermia in the sweatshirt and shorts combo, but he was not about to ask Macy why it was imperative for the other witch to be alerted right at that moment. Though she did come with the added bonus of being pretty good at keeping tensions between the sisters low, minimizing the damage of the unintentional body switch. 

Harry made quick work of assigning tasks to the sisters, deciding that a plunge into his personal library was going to be essential. He had reached his right hand beside him, twining his fingers with Alex's frozen counterpart before managing to pry her out of Mel-turned-Maggie with promises of coming back with more information soon. They had walked less than a dozen paces before Alex had let out a giggle into the cold morning. "What's so funny?" 

"Anyone looking at us will think I'm a mental patient being led away by my carer," she whispered with a laugh. 

The man looked beside him with narrowed gaze. Sometimes he wondered what it was like to inhabit her strange brain. "How is that remotely funny?" 

"I've already seen three of my students and I'm sure they already thought I was a little off my rocker. Now they'll live with the uncertainty of whether or not I actually did escape a mental hospital." Alex let out a guffaw at the confused expression of a student passing by. He resisted the urge to say that most everyone who had spent more than a minute with her thought that she was off her rocker. "Either that or they think you spend your mornings rocking people's worlds in your office." She gestured pointedly at a young man who looked somewhere between awed and horrified of the pair. "He's one of yours, isn't he? Bet he didn't count on seeing this when he woke up. Professor Harry Greenwood, advocate for Women's Rights everywhere, secretly walks scantily clad women through the quad in fifty degree weather. Either way, it's going to be a funny little day." 

"Oh, bother," he muttered, his ears turning pink before hurried their pace so they could duck behind a corner and he teleport them away. 

They were in his kitchen a moment later, Alex releasing her grip on Harry to pull off her sodden socks with nose crinkled in annoyance. "Ugh. This is the worst." 

Brushing her cheek sympathetically, he nodded his head towards the bedroom. "There's a change of your clothes in the top left drawer of my bureau. Go take a hot shower and I'll fetch you some tea to warm up, alright?" 

"Um... sure, cool deal." The woman looked confused, eyes narrowing to slits. "How do you have clothes of mine, again?" 

Harry leveled his gaze with hers, raising a single eyebrow. "I will remind you that that Maggie and Parker are not the only ones with issues regarding spontaneous teleportation under certain _conditions_." 

"You mean when _you_ orbed us to four different continents while having sex before you managed to get us anywhere either of us actually lived?" The whitelighter refused to look away from her challenging stare, knowing that she was trying to goad him into looking embarrassed. He refused to relent – he actually thought he was pretty bloody fantastic that day. "Yeah, I remember. Scared the shit out of Lemongrass," she recalled, looking like the cat that ate the canary. 

"That we did, poor bugger." Harry couldn't help but smirk as he watched her disappear in a jaunty skip through the doorway. 

Putting the kettle to boil, he pulled out several heavy tomes from the shelves in his study, scanning their pages for anything on petrifying demons. Just as Alex was coming out of the shower, dressed and ready for the day, his mobile buzzed to announce the appearance of another two statues on campus. With haste, he poured the tea into a thermos and wrapped the prepared breakfast in foil, giving Alex a second's notice to pull on her brown leather jacket over her clothes, before teleporting them both to the Vera-Vaughn household. It hadn't been fortuitous news, however, as they had concluded that it was Medusa, monster of old, wreaking havoc and the reason behind the new campus statues. It had been even worse, and Alex had made a point of mentioning it every twenty seconds or so, when he suggested they call Charity for a second opinion. And so, Harry stood in the attic of the ancestral mansion, with the woman whom with he had his first illicit affair, the one whom with he was having his _current_ illicit affair, and his demon-infected charge. If he was being perfectly honest, he would have preferred another week in Tartarus. 

"That's not something we like to advertise, given –" Charity explained, pacing the attic in her crisp white suit. 

"What she became?" Macy completed, sadly. "She was a witch." 

"Well, transparency has never been the Elder's strong suit, has it?" The plant witch muttered, under her breath, and Harry effected a warning clearing of his throat in response. Alex noisily bit into her toast from atop an overturned milk crate a few feet away, staring daggers at the Elder who stood spinning tales about the gorgon. Charity had asked for the why of the other woman's presence, and needless to say that Alex had been nothing but par for the course with sarcastic remarks in response. Sure, her primary objective was not to get murdered by the Elder but apparently the thought of leaving Macy to defend herself against the other witch had roused some sort of battle attitude within her. It was the same sort of courage that she had mustered when her young neighbor Marcus had been tossed into the street; it was the same emotion that had brought him back to life. Alexandra Figueroa was a lot of things, but a coward did not seem to be one of them. And though she insisted that she would never be whitelighter material, he respectfully begged to differ. Sure, she ran her mouth like the dickens, but her heart was in the right place. 

"What we're dealing with now is an exceptionally dangerous being of pure evil," Charity justified. "She must be destroyed." 

The words had been enough for Alex to abandon her post on the crate and stand beside the telekinetic witch, a dark shadow falling over her usually sunny disposition. That had definitely been the wrong turn of phrase, Harry noticed, and it was not going to go well. "What the f– Are you even listening to yourselves or are your heads that far up your asses?" Harry balked at her response, staring the witch down knowing it was in vain. 

Macy had stepped away from the Elder and whitelighter, leaving the botanist to form an invisible line between them that Harry was sure he should not currently attempt to cross. "Medusa was a witch turned demon through no fault of her own. Harry, she could be me. Would you vanquish me, too?" 

The other two attempted to offer explanations and reassurances to the Charmed One, though they seemed to be having little effect. "I think we would appreciate you taking a good couple of steps back," Alex warned, her small form looking oddly imposing in her defensive stance. Charity had abided, turning away with a mention of preparing for battle, while Harry stood trying to convince Macy that everything was going to be OK. "I meant _both_ of you, Harry," she whispered, staring squarely at him, green eyes on brown. If she had noticed the hurt expression on his face, she did not register it. His mouth flapped open and closed, searching in vain for the right words to help justify this expedition, but one glance at the incensed countenance was enough to derail him time and again. With one last attempt at a pleading look, Harry complied, raising his hands defensively and stepping as far backwards as he dared. Alex stared at his still form for a long moment before turning to talk to Macy with a disappointed shake of her head. 

The relative calm achieved was not long-lived. Mel and Parker had called Harry to say that another two statues had appeared at the Kappa rush party. In her anger, Alex had all but refused to allow Harry to orb Macy to their rendezvous point so long as Charity was tagging along with them. Now with the sisters, Parker and Alex together, it was getting exceedingly difficult to get a word in edgewise without one of them saying something trite in response. Now it was the majority of his inner circle that was against the idea of the Elder council and Harry had to admit that the tension was making their usually smooth interactions jagged and forced. This was probably the most tension there had been between them since he had tied the girls in the attic and told them they were witches. 

They all huddled together to review the phone Mel had found under the bed, tapping to the last thing being reviewed on the mobile only to be horrified by the nature of the findings. "God, men are pigs," Alex muttered under her breath, leaving Harry to sigh in frustration, though he was quick to recover by delivering a straightforward strategy for them to defeat the gorgon. Like a watchdog, Alex lagged behind to wait for Macy, who reluctantly held the shield in her hands feeling as if its sheer weight in her grasp was betraying all of womanhood. Charity had assured her that she would not have to kill the demon, to which Alex quickly interjected, holding Macy by the shoulders and leading her out. "Yeah, who does the killing isn't the fucking point of contention, Callaghan," she seethed. "We're all aware you wouldn't hesitate to take her out." 

"Ale," Harry whispered, as the botanist led the telekinetic witch out of the room with a scowl. 

"Don't try me right now, Greenwood," she hissed back. "Either do your fucking job or whatever it is _she_ wants you to do, but the two seem pretty mutually exclusive right now. You better make a fucking choice." The threat had thrown Harry for a loop, staring after her with his mouth agape for several moments before he had shaken the shock out of his system and shuffled out after the crowd. 

The girls had found Daphne in the bathroom, crying and terrified of the monster she had manifested from her tears. They had barely had enough time to listen to her story before the sounds of Medusa taking her revenge against the partying fraternity students could be heard over the music. Without missing a beat, they had taken to the hallway and were rushing down the stairs when Harry called out to them. Jumping backwards, Alex pushed Mel and Maggie behind the expanse of the shield before glowing green light had flashed around them. When the lights were gone, Macy lowered the shield to show Parker, Charity and Harry all turned to stone on the staircase. 

"Harry!" Mel called, taking stock of their whitelighter with a look of shock. 

Beside her, Alex could've sworn her heart had stuttered to a stop. It was a mixture of frustration, despair, and rage that had taken residence within her at that second. " _Fucking idiot,_ " she muttered under her breath, angrily wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. 

Macy plucked the sword out of Charity's hand and with a cursory evaluation of the weapon decided it was time to end this, once and for all. She had not even taken a look back to see if her sisters had followed when she quietly tiptoed down the rest of the stairs. 

Alex wrapped an arm around Maggie, gently forcing her away from her boyfriend's motionless form. "Oh, God. This can't be happening. What if we can't... Alex –" 

"Mags," the floramancer whispered, holding the empath's chin between her index and thumb and forcing her to make eye contact. "I know this is a lot, believe me. I love Harry. I love him now, and I'll love him tomorrow when his ass gets unpetrified and he gets to figure out how fucking pissed I am, but that can't happen until we reverse the curse. We can only reverse the curse if you leave Parker her for a little while. OK?" The explanation made enough sense that the younger witch nodded frantically, resolute, and hooked arms with the older woman as they descended the stairs with trepidation. 

The whole room was eerily quiet, with stone figures all around, making it feel like an old, war-time cemetery. In an impressive feat of dexterity, Maggie had managed to freeze the demon in place long enough for Macy to sidle up and hesitate as she held the sword above the demon's neck. The two younger sisters looked horrified at the suggestion that Maggie should unfreeze Medusa. Alex nodded with a shrug when their questioning gaze fell on her. Clearly, Macy knew something they didn't, and for that she was grateful. It was appropriate that Medusa's story should end with someone understanding what had happened and seeing past the villainizing agenda that the mythology books had offered up until then. It had only taken the littlest bit of kindness before the gorgon had given up and released the curse over her victims. Breathing a sigh of relief, the four shared a hug, substantially more shaky than usual before attending to the matter of damage control. 

Harry had leapt down the steps, ignoring the rattling of his bones and the uncomfortable twang his knees gave him as soon as he had completed the maneuver. Wide-eyed and more than a little confused, he took quick stock of his charges, finding them perfectly fine (body-switch aside) before his gaze set on the task of looking for Alex. He found her stalking away on her own and standing guard at the doors, deterring any people trying to leave the party before the whitelighter had the opportunity to wipe their memories. In between persons, the man would glance up at the door only to find Alex entertained with her phone or trying to deter a drunk frat boy from thinking he had any sort of shot with her. The deed was done quick enough before the crew dragged themselves, exhausted, emotionally drained and a little annoyed, back to the manor. 

Alex made herself comfortable atop the kitchen counter, swinging her legs back and forth as she patiently waited for Charity to finish talking to Macy and for Maggie and Mel to have their heart to heart. Her jacket sat over her lap, having been too lazy to put it in the coat closet or to even move her from safe position on the countertop. She was on notice for being such a brash maniac for the last two days. Justified, surely, but a maniac, nonetheless, and the Brit had told not minced words when he warned her that she was going to get herself in trouble (or worse) if she continued running her mouth. There was a long discussion thereafter of how he was being hypocritical if he was willing to confide in the Elders to help the Charmed ones while also being distrustful of their fickle attitudes. He had not been able to offer a suitable response, in return. It had been a long night, to say the least. 

Harry entered the kitchen with tea tray in tow, pointedly ignoring Maggie's outburst of having her own boobs again. He set the tray down and, a little unsurely, he collected a lone mug of tea still remaining on it. Stepping carefully towards the botanist, hoping against all hope that his deliberate movements weren't seen as an attempt to attack, he extended the mug into the witch's peripheral vision. "I made you some Builder's," he whispered, gaze barely grazing her thighs in height. 

Taking the proffered drink, she tilted it slightly towards him with a tight-lipped smile he all but missed. "Thank you." Placing the mug safely beside her, her fingers wrapped themselves around his tie and gave a hearty tug, causing him to stumble forwards and brace himself directly against her lips for a long moment before she had ultimately relinquished her grip and allowed him to escape. The whitelighter looked frankly terrified, but mostly conflicted to which his companion simply shrugged. "I really like tea," she said, jokingly though his response was just to avert his dampened eyes from her ever-observant gaze and rest his forehead against hers. 

"Sure you do," he said sardonically, barely above whisper, causing her to wrap her arms around his middle in an attempt to fuse his broken pieces back together, despite her current annoyance with him. Turns out, she was a better person than he was. Beside them, they could hear Maggie and Mel making aw-ing noises at the unusual display of affection. It was quite some time before he could bear to put some distance between them. 

"I would've thought you'd rather be standing guard upstairs, Ally." Mel joked, shooting the floramancer a grin. 

"That had been my intention, but I was told in no uncertain terms that nothing would be discussed in my presence. Macy said she'd yell if she needed me, resting assured that I will send Charity's ass to the beyond if she touches a single hair on that queen's head," Alex responded, fully expecting a lecture from the whitelighter, but receiving only a barely suppressed smile, instead. 

"Are mommy and daddy done fighting?" Maggie asked, sending them a faux pout. "Because I ship you guys way too hard to see you fight so much. Especially considering how hard Alex throws down. No offense, Harry." 

"Was any of that English?" He whispered to himself, shaking his head dismissively. 

"Sure was, grandad," she riposted, mussing up his hair from its perfectly parted position. "Some arguments are not dying any time soon," she said simply, and the whitelighter nodded reluctantly with a sigh before depositing a kiss on Alex's temple and straightening up. 

"Charity," Mel and Maggie chorused. 

"Oh, I have a million and one more issues, but I don't take kindly to abuse of power. So, she is definitely in the top three," Alex finished, shrugging, aware that the argument had little in the way of supporting information. A loud thud from overhead caught the four of theirs' attention, all glancing upwards simultaneously trying to decipher the source of the noise. "Mace, are you alright? _Macy?_ " Alex called loudly, having pulled away from Harry the second the sound was heard. When there was no immediate response, Harry and Alex shared a look and shot like a bolt out of the kitchen and up the stairs.


	26. Dishonorable discharge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it long? Yeah. Is it angsty? Yeah. Do I adore it? Damn straight! Alternative plotline ahead!

The thud they had heard was the sound of Macy passing out from exhaustion. The day, it seemed, had worn her out and the telekinetic witch had succumbed to her body's need for rest before she had managed to wrestle herself back to her room. Harry had just collected Macy from the floor, scooping her up in his arms and walking her down the hall to her bedroom, leaving Alex and Charity alone in the attic, if only for a few minutes. The silence had assaulted the younger woman's ears in an oppressive weight for long enough before she had decided that she would do better in the kitchen with Mel and Maggie. 

"By the way, Alex," Charity called after the stone-faced woman. The floramancer turned on her heel, cocking her hip as she stared at the Elder with crossed arms with her face mercifully neutral. "It's a _shame_ what happened to Robert." 

The air left the room rather quickly, thereafter, Alex's eyes darkening in their evaluation of the other woman. Whatever she had imagined the woman in white to say, it was far from what had actually come out of her mouth. The botanist ground her teeth. Of course she remembered her. How could she not? Those hazel eyes had clocked her during her darkest day and memorized every line of fear in the younger woman's face before murdering someone she loved and disappearing into the ether. "I'm not sure that I know what you mean," she replied, carefully, a little voice in her head that sounded a hell of a lot like Harry telling her to tread lightly. 

"Of course you do, _romancer_." The way she spat out the word would make anyone think the creatures were evil spawns, not people with feelings and families. "Marisol did pretty well with the concealment spell, I have to admit, but it's hard to erase that sad little face." Charity smiled that patronizing grin that made her whole face look approachable and kind. "It's going to be a shame about Harry, as well." 

"Who, _your lap dog_? Harry doesn't know anything about me. It took him _months_ to realize I was even magic," she lied, easily, lowering her voice as if trying to keep the secret between them. "He just thinks I'm a shitty whitelighter." 

"He doesn't know, _yet_. Believe me, he will." The sickly sweet tone turned Alex's stomach and made her skin prickle before she noticed the prickling was the sprouting of thin, spiky thorns that lengthened with her growing stress. "And then, he'll either do what he's meant to, which is report to the council and get rid of you, or he'll try to protect you and we'll have to get rid of you both." 

The spikes were drawing blood from her palms from where Alex gripped her own arms to maintain composure. "He's one of your most loyal soldiers. Why would you do this? If you want me dead, fine, but–" 

The woman in white folded her hands over her heart with a sigh. "That's so sweet. You like him, don't you" she gushed, forcing the botanist to look away with reddened cheeks. "He's loyal to the Elders, but you've definitely distracted him. I can see how he gravitates towards you, catches your eye across rooms, worries about you. You've already worked your seduction magic on him." 

"That's _not_ what floramancers fucking do, Callaghan," she seethed, wanting to scream that the only seduction she needed was a cup of tea and breakfast to entice the Brit, not any ancient magic. She supposed that the response would not be well-received, especially since she knew it would be hard to stop herself from spewing exactly with how little effort she could convince him to drag her into bed. Alex never thought she was the jealous type, but she seemed to have been incorrect in that regard. 

"It will when I write the book on your extinct species." Alex swallowed the retort, halfway between wanting to run away down the stairs and launching herself at the Elder in blind rage. "Let's be honest, Alex. You and I both know that he has bent the rules for his friends, before. Then, I'll just spin the story of the maddened whitelighter, under the evil influence of a romancer who betrayed his charges and had to be dealt with. I'll act as the girl's new liaison and everything will be as it should." 

"Right," the professor said tritely, nodding to herself before locking their gazes together with an intense glower. An energy was building up in the pit of her stomach, like an ancient hunger that was just about done with being ignored. Every bit of Alex's body felt like it was on fire, underwater, fluctuating and immutable, all at the same time. Combined with the rage boiling within her, she couldn't assure that she wouldn't lose control of herself at any second. "Let's get one thing straight, then. You will die before causing harm to _any_ of them," she growled, spikes lengthening over her skin and drawing more blood from her palms, but she was no longer in herself. "I already died once. I'll fucking do it, again if it means I'm taking you with me." 

Charity laughed, despite the severely altered appearance of the floramancer. The skin under the spikes resembled the hard exterior of an oak tree and vines bloomed from the floorboards, snapping and twisting ominously in her anger. "Promise?" 

"My word is my bond." With one last smiling look, the Elder opened a portal and crackled out of the attic without so much as a backwards glance. Alex remained staring at the empty air she had just occupied with a snarl on her lip. Behind her, Harry's form darkened the doorway, downcast expression as he took in her shaking form after having spent the last few minutes hidden in the hallway. His hand rested on her shoulder, and despite her own bloodied hands, his palms felt the thorns bend like petals under his touch and the harsh bark on her skin flutter to the floor in an invisible breeze. Under any other circumstance he would be excitedly, poking and prodding at her, urging her to replicate the transformations so he could document the ever-expanding extent of her abilities. Right now, he couldn't bring himself to be muster the energy for excitement. "Harry, she's a maniac. Please tell me you're taking the girls and disappearing for a while." 

"No," he responded immediately, squeezing her shoulder. "She'll know you told me off, rile up the Elders and then we'd all be sitting ducks." 

Alex decided that she could finally turn, falling into his space and letting his arms pull her tighter. It took several breaths before the thorns had retracted, leaving tiny, bloodied pinpricks all over her skin. "Then, what do we do?" 

"Play her game, pretending we don't know the whole truth." He sighed, holding her face in his hand while his own was a portrait of grief and regret. There was so much happening, and there was so much he wanted to say but couldn't find the right words. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place – torn between devoting himself to his charges and keeping this woman from throwing herself into the line of fire for his sake. He knew who she would choose, if it were up to her; it was never about her, and that's what made everything so much harder. Harry wanted to scream. He was always had awful timing. "Alex, I should have never –" 

"Don't, please. Not about her, not right now," she whispered, tucking her head under his chin, her shaking body making his teeth rattle. "You know I love you, right, Harry?" 

"I know that, fool," he chuckled, holding her at arm's length. "Are you letting that amateur make you soft and amorous?" 

"Shut up, you dork," she grumbled, wiping her eyes to a loud guffaw before she had kissed him, arms twined around his neck while his fingers tugged at the beltloops of her jeans to draw her closer. There was a streak of blood on his cheek, neck and shirt from her grazing palms, and while on any other day this would be a cause for alarm and a conversation about white shirts and bloodborne pathogens, today it was considered collateral damage. It was a long moment before they had forced themselves to separate, savoring the blessed few minutes of relative peace they could find among this nightmare. "We should go downstairs before they worry." Harry nodded, pecking her once more on the cheek before directing himself towards the door. She whistled and the whitelighter stopped to glance at her with a questioning look. "If you sleep with her, I swear we're over." 

Harry's eyebrows were almost lost to his hairline and he blinked repeatedly to try and rearrange his thoughts. "What should I do in the case of giant, man-eating crabs, then?" He asked, with a pleasant smile that she knew very well was fake, arms clasped behind his back. 

Alex screwed up her face, confusedly. "What?" 

"Oh, I thought we were covering our bases on situations that weren't _fucking_ likely," he responded, the same sarcastic polite tone lacing through his words. " _If you sleep with her_. Bloody kidding me", he grumbled under his breath in disbelief as he started down the stairs, leaving the floramancer to roll her eyes at him and hurry after him.  
______

"I don't have enough books for this," Harry exclaimed, orbing into Alex's apartment with his hands laden with heavy tomes, laying them on the kitchen table before going to raid the botanist's collection of grimoires. 

"You're not making any sense, Greenwood. It's impossible for Macy to have killed Elder Bari. We were up there within seconds – she was asleep –" Alex ranted, trying to keep Lemongrass out of the way of the pacing Elder. 

"She wants to bind her, Alex," he said finally, his eyes wide with panic. "I need to find information, proof that it was not Macy _and_ that it was Charity or... _Ale_..." He was on the verge of hyperventilating. With a hooked finger, he loosened his tie and discarded the dark jacket over his shoulders. All in all, he looked panicked, unpinned, and desperate, and with a resolute nod the woman was helping him with his loads. 

"I have a good searching spell." They had opened several books and Alex had mumbled a spell under her breath, the pages fluttering magically but yielding no results. "Shit, shit, shit." 

"There has to be something!" He growled, using his own powers to skim through pages, growing more desperate as the minutes ticked by. 

"Unless," the woman whispered, stopping her searching, turning to glue her eyes on the Brit's. "Harry, how long has it been since they've called you?" With a worried face, he jumped out of his seat and grabbed onto Alex's arm. 

They arrived into the darkened manor, Maggie and Mel frantically looking at the compass in their hands, wondering why they weren't summoning Charity. They traced the women back into the Vortex Viribus where Charity was forcing Macy into submission with a bolt of light. The scene had spurred Maggie and Mel into fierce battle, the sisters engaging in physical combat against the Elder before subduing her just long enough for the Power of Three to come together and zap her of her powers. Alex sat against one of the walls, the disoriented whitelighter's head in her lap, caring for him (read: holding the idiot back) after he jumped in the way of Charity's crackling lasso. Honestly, she was just happy the lash hadn't slit his throat as it had done Robert. 

Harry looked truly hurt as he stood watch over a shackled Charity. He had spent so long being her friend, time as her lover, and he could barely conceive of the notion that she could turn out to be so evil. At the corner of the room, Alex stood with her arms crossed, staring at the floorboards and pretending that she wasn't there. He knew she only forced herself to be their presence for his sake, and that this fate was probably a better end than simply having killed the woman in the chamber below. Still, he could feel the dissatisfaction that permeated her being as she stared at the two. The resolution to their _Charity problem_ had not soothed the ache in her soul from years of resentment and loss. Alex wasn't violent, but this matter superseded her desire for peace among the magical species. 

A glowing green portal appeared in the attic, and with a defensive pose, the three waited for the intruder to step through. Harry's face looked like he had seen a ghost, confused and in pain, further than what he had experienced in the day. Charity couldn't believe her eyes, gaping at the blonde stepping through as if her world had crashed around her. 

The blonde tilted her head towards Alex in greeting, looking harmless enough. "Floramancer," she acknowledged. 

Alex, whose mouth had fallen open nodded to the woman, watching her step towards Charity before her brain caught up. " _Holy shit_... the Keeper," she whispered with hitched breath. 

"Fiona," Harry muttered, still in shock. 

"Wait, Fiona!? Charity's sis – what the fuck? You're charge was the Keeper!?" The botanist balked. 

"Hello, Harry. We have a lot to catch up on. Can I have a moment with my sister? Alone?" Fiona had barely looked at the whitelighter, instead zeroing her sights on her sister, almost as if the woman would disappear if her eyes glanced away. 

"Come on, Har. I don't think we need to piss her off," Alex whispered, pulling the confused man out of the room with a tug. 

It was a few minutes later that the sentinels had come to collect Charity from the attic, not before turning their sights on Harry. "You, as well." 

"What do you mean?" 

"You're to face trial, as well. For an unsanctioned relationship with Charity Callaghan and putting the Charmed Ones in danger," the booming voice of the sentinels echoed, the pair scrambled, trying to get out of the grasp of the guards in a dizzy scuffle. 

Alex had pushed him into a corner, standing defensively in front of him with a snarl on her lips. "You don't want him. Not when you can have me." 

Harry struggled to get out from behind her, but she had bound him with vines to the spot. "Alex, no. Don't you fucking dare!" 

"Who are you?" 

With a feral growl, she flicked both her arms to her sides, the room wrapping itself in extensive blooms, trees, shrubs and plants of all colors and shapes with little more than a flourish. "My name is Alex Figueroa and I'm a floramancer on the run." 

They had fallen ungracefully on the floor of a rotunda, hundreds of little balconies looking down on them the whole way around. Alex helped Harry off of the ground, though he was quick to take a defensive stance before her, trying in vain to shield her from all angles. "Can you ever just do what you're told, Alex?" He hissed under his breath at her, his whole demeanor fidgety and worried. 

"Harry Greenwood, you were brought here to receive punishment for having an illicit relationship with Charity Callaghan and putting your charges in danger." An Elder boomed from her place above them, her cubby lighting up. 

Harry lowered his head, trying to look contrite in his demeanor. "My intention was never to let the Charmed Ones come to any harm. Their best interest was always my main priority –" 

"I do not think you've taken your responsibility to heart, Whitelighter Greenwood." 

"It's easy for all of you to fucking judge from all the way up on your goddamn literal pedestals," Alex snarled, spines rippling and appearing on her skin, a trait Harry now believed was just a manifestation of her full power maturing. "Meanwhile he's down there getting chased by demons and tricksters and fucking _ELDERS WHO LOST THEIR FUCKING WAY_!" 

"With everything you're being accused of, Whitelighter Greenwood, and you show up with a romancer in tow. Have you no respect for our laws?" The Elder called, watching with disgusted expression as the woman's skin twitched in waves as the thorns undulated. "Who is she?" 

The whitelighter hesitated, looking for creative ways to bend the truth without being detected while also protecting Alex. He didn't want her to be harmed. She could, at least, take care of the girls if something terrible was to happen to him here. "Alexandra Figueroa, youngest child of the goddess Yucahú. She has been crucial to the survival of my charges and lends her abilities for their preparations. She means only to remedy the relationships between our peoples." 

"She is definitely not earning you any favor, Harry, if it is even possible for you to lose any more of it." 

The irate woman beside him was quick to interject, but Harry pulled Alex back, trying to coax the fire of her anger to more of a dim candlelight. "She is simply here because she wants to speak on my behalf. I apologize for her less than friendly demeanor." 

"Don't apologize for what I'm not sorry for. They're _wrong_ and they know it," she pleaded with him, lower lip trembling. "You're making a mistake!" 

"How dare you question our judgement, child?" The voice made Alex start, reflexively stepping closer to Harry in a cower. The Brit briefly caught her eye, forcing an encouraging half-smile and giving her hand a passing squeeze. The sound of canes thumping against the ground caught their attention, the room was swirling and the Elders were chanting some unknown spell. "You will now receive punishment. You will be stripped of your powers and will no longer serve as the Charmed Ones' whitelighter." 

" _NO!_ Take me. Those girls need him. You can't do this!" Alex exploded, stepping forward to the Elders who were now circling him. "Please! I beg you. Don't take his powers. I will surrender to you. My incarceration would mean more than this, just –" 

" _ALEX, SHUT UP!_ You're going to get killed!" Harry roared over the sound of her pleads and promises of surrender. "This floramancer doesn't speak for me, I –" His voice was suddenly taken away with a sweep of the Head Elder's hand. 

She replicated the action with Alex, but was not having any result. The witch had moved from bargaining to anger in the drop of a hat. "I've been immune to that spell since I was six and you have another fucking thing coming if you think you're going to _touch_ him." Tears were now streaming down her face, fast, hot and with nothing to lose. "Punish _me_!" 

"Why punish you when by punishing him we weaken you _both_?" The witches raised their hands in unison and prepared to take their shot. The plant witch was now desperate, and her hands moved on their own accord and as the blinding light swirled to attack him, walls of thick redwoods came up around them. The trees fell in a shower of splinters quickly after, prompting Alex to plant her feet, digging into whatever well of untouched magic was dormant within her to create more protections, hoping to whatever god would listen that they would tire before she did. A dagger whistled through the air from behind the floramancer, and with gasp, Harry had raced to tackle her to the ground and out of the blade's trail. Alex slid several feet on the tiled ground, panting and disoriented, scrambling to get back on her feet before her hands wove an intricate pattern for new protection. Before the thicket could come up around them, the whitelighter was levitated and she could hear him scream, fists tightened as he writhed in pain and his form cracked open to let his power flow through. He crumpled to the floor shortly after, drained. 

"Harry!" She screamed, running to his side and falling to his knees to shake him awake. 

The Head Elder's steps echoed on the flagged floor, stopping just shy of the pair to look down on the sobbing woman. "This is the problem with your kind. Don't take sides, desperate for peace, desperate to coexist, won't stand to keep the natural order," she quipped, almost derisively. "You could've killed everyone in this room if you just tapped into that power. You could be a god and saved that poor idiot." 

Alex let out a sob that quickly turned into a feral, animalistic growl. Her skin had turned into patchy bark with thick thorns that were two inches long. Her eyes glowed a brilliant emerald while her hair turned a deep forest green that swayed in an invisible breeze. Her hands shook, and the palm resting on Harry's chest pulsed with a strange yellow light. "I'll kill you," she whispered, craning her neck to look up at the Elder. "I will _kill_ you," Alex screeched, getting to her feet with unnatural speed, forcing the Elder back. From her palms sprouted vines that resembled a mace which she swung with reckless force. The floor rumbled and rows of bamboos shot from the ground, barely missing the quickly evading woman in white. Some bright light flashed before Alex's eyes, and she felt cheek sting with a cut that only spurred her further. The vines in her hands twined around the Elder's neck, and she tugged her arms to squeeze, but before she could watch the life leave her eyes, they were tossed suddenly into the living room of Harry's condo. 

Ignoring the pain radiating through her leg from landing on it funny, she scrambled to Harry's side, crying. "Harry!" Before her eyes, she could see the worry lines that had only ever been visible when he frowned dig into his face and his hair fleck with grey. "No. Please, no." 

"What have you done?," he whispered, tears leaking out of the side of his eyes. He sat up, brushing tears and blood away from her cheeks with his thumb, watching as the eerie features from her romancer form ebbed away in her despair. His instinct was to cover the deep gash on her face with his hand to heal it, and he pulled it away a second later when he remembered he wasn't able to do it anymore. His fingers fidgeted briefly before they tangled in her hair. "Alex, I'm so sorry." 

"We're going to fix it, Har," she whispered, nodding frantically. "Me and the girls, we're going to fix this. I'm not letting Charity fucking Callaghan be your downfall." The man wondered whether he was trying to convince him or herself. 

"I'm sorry that I'll have to leave you, too. You deserve better than this," he whispered, barely able to contain the half-sob threatening to burst from his throat. Harry tried to swallow the shaking of his voice, offering her a watery smile. "I really did want to be around with you for a long while longer." 

Harry entertained the thought that he could hear both of their hearts breaking. Alex had broken down, falling into his arms as she cried against his chest, her hands gripping his shirt in a vice. He didn't think he was faring much better, especially now that he felt an old tiredness seeping into his bones. Inhaling shakily, Alex peered up. Her eyes were still an insane shade of green and every now and then her skin would turn to bark, but she grit her teeth against her own emotions as she stared up at her lover. "No. We're either dying together in a stupid blaze of glory or not at all, Harry Greenwood. I am fixing this. I swear on my life, on my power, on whatever the fuck I have in my life that I –" 

The recent mortal had crashed his lips against hers, pouring every last feeling in his body into her. It was a surprised second or two before she had grappled against him, pulling at his lapel to drag him closer. Harry trailed his mouth down her neck, tugging at her t-shirt, disconnecting from her for just a second to drag it off before attacking once more, knocking several knick-knacks off the coffee table as they grappled messy, uncoordinated passion. 

________

"Drink," Alex ordered, holding a teacup full of rancid smelling, green liquid for him to take. "Dale, que es pa' hoy," she quipped. Harry smiled. He noticed she was decidedly bossier in Spanish than she was in English, but he somehow adored her clipped tones. It felt bizarrely like _home_ despite never having heard the language in his native land. 

"A potion isn't stopping this, Ale," he explained with a sigh. 

"But it's slowing it down and that's all I need. Just time," she whispered, brushing back his gray hair with a loving touch. Age had hit him like a freight train, but the potion was helping it go significantly slower than he had expected – he had thought he would be in the grave by now, if he was honest. With a wry smile, he downed the cup, pulling a face as the disgusting concoction slid down his throat. Alex was facing away from him, and he relished in the fact that despite the unsettling lack of her presence in his mind, he could still see the stalk of lavender peeking out of the back of her shirt. Some types of magic, such as love, it seemed, were indelible. 

He knew he should force her to take a break, but she had vowed not to rest until either he was saved or both of them were dead. The only respite she had had from her labor, had been his succumbing to the overpowering instinct that had whispered that he needed to be with her while he still could. Making love as a human was strange – not bad, just different. He felt like the love he had for that woman could not be contained in this faulty, mortal shell that was unworthy of her touch. When he mentioned it, Alex had nearly murdered him then and there before taking him all over again just to prove him wrong. All in all, mortality was treating him rather well. 

Smiling reflexively, he skimmed around her to the sink, making quick work of washing the teacup. As he dried it on a kitchen towel, he smirked amusedly at the patch of lavender growing steadily beside the teacup rack. For a brief moment he wondered what was so special about the pastel blooms that they had followed him through magic and served as an ever-present beacon of Alexandra's connection with him. The plant twisted towards him, seemingly as curious about him as he was about it. Harry leaned left, then right, watching as the plant mimicked him, perfectly. A cursory glance at the other plants told him that they were doing the same. 

"Er... Alex?" The woman hummed at him distractedly, her nose in an old leather-bound tome. " _Alex_ ," he repeated, more insistently. 

"Yeah, babe?" Her eyes flittered up to the Brit, watching him bob from side to side before noticing that the greenery was moving with him. "Well, this is new," she said, slowly. "Um...are you r-romancing plants?" 

"I- I... think I am." He stopped, eyes narrowing at the purple buds before him before he thought to ask, "Are they just humoring me? Think it's cute?" 

"No. I think you're actually doing that, yourself." The sound of a chair scraping on the floor was followed by her appearance beside him. 

"But... I don't have magic," he explained, as if the fact wasn't obvious, already. 

Alex remained quiet for so long Harry thought she had left, rather than in intrepidly deep thought. "But, I do," she replied. He knew that expression on her face well. It was the same expression when she was met with a particularly difficult puzzle and was barely grasping at the edges of the answer. Thankfully it made sense to her, because it was making absolutely no sense to him. "Can you still see my mark?" 

Harry nodded. "I figured it was a fluke. Same as me still having the knowledge of the Elders." 

"Unless it's not and it's a connection. Some sort of primitive magic, like an early failsafe," she speculated. "I was always wracking my brain as to why we were suddenly on the same wavelength, despite the fact it wasn't aided by the Elders. Did I bridge us somehow when I came into form? That screamy, conjury, flowery night you first heard me?" 

He anxiously rubbed the back of his neck, rummaging through the encyclopedia of his mind. He sighed, opting for a shrug, instead. "But I didn't feel anything," he riposted, crossing his arms. 

"You said you had a migraine all night. And you wouldn't have felt an insignificant amount of magic when you're a whole whitelighter." He felt his face deflate, and she was quick to cup his cheek. "You know what I mean." 

"I do, love. Don't worry." He chuckled, turning his head to kiss her palm. "I've always been curious how the other half lives, after all." 

He could see the wheels in her mind turning, an idea brewing in her bowels of her thoughts. The botanist had turned slightly away from him, her hands placed on top the counter, fingers tapping against the granite in a fretful fashion. "Do you trust me?" Before he could ask _with what_ , she had slammed her ominously glowing palm straight onto his chest with a force he did not think the tiny woman could actually produce. Alex was tapping into that magical reserve inside her that was slowly letting itself be known, and Harry could feel the magic painfully scrape against his ribcage and course through his veins. 

With a swift tug, Harry had wrenched her off, her face frightfully pale, despite her olive complexion and near swooning. He tried to cough away the burning in his lungs, barely able to move fast enough to catch her when her knees buckled under pressure. He slowly lowered them both onto the floor, gasping for breath. "Honestly, Ale, is it possible for you to go a few days without trying to kill yourself for someone else?" 

"Is it possible for you to shut the fuck up and appreciate the fact that we found a goddamn loophole?" She panted, falling backward, laying her back against his chest, smirking as the man twined his arms around her and kissed her crown. 

"It certainly doesn't sound like me, does it?" he replied, sarcastically, noting that his hands looked more youthful and the gnawing pain that had been afflicting his joints had settled down. 

Alex let out a peel of laughter, craning her neck to look up at him with heavy lids. "Told you we'd be a dumpster fire. Clever dumpster fire, but a dumpster fire, nonetheless." 

"Worth it," he quipped with uncharacteristic emotional candor, a (fortunate?) side effect of his looming mortality. "Does this new development mean I can stop taking that pond scum you've been force-feeding me?" 

"Nope. You need your whitelighter powers back. This parlor trick just gave us some extra time to figure out how." 

"Oh, but that sounds like such a fucking drag," he whined. 

A broad grin stretched on his face, nudging her head affectionately with his, causing her to giggle and half-heartedly push him away. "Who are you and what have you done with Harold?" 

"I wholeheartedly blame the influence of _your_ foul-mouthed, illegal, back-alley magic," he announced, haughtily. 

" _Aaand_ , there he is."


	27. Recon mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it's been a while! Gotten super busy with work so I hadn't managed to pump this chapter out. I combined two WIP chapters and made it this. It's an alternate timeline of the current plotline.

" _Alex_ , a hand, please?" Harry Greenwood yelled over his shoulder, despite the fact that he could hear the frantic footsteps coming down the hallway shortly after the sound of breaking pottery had broken the silence of the calm Thursday afternoon. Still in her slightly more refined teaching attire, Alex slid into the living room, eyes wide at the sight of the man holding his open left palm in his right as a steady stream of crimson trickled down while simultaneously hopping on his left leg to keep from putting pressure on the shard-encrusted heel of his right. 

The botanist tutted, carding her hands through her hair before finding a sensible plan. The jungle in her living room swept a clear pathway for her to drag him onto the couch with a thump. "I _told you_ to be careful with manipulating the plants."

"I thought I had it under control," he defended in a low voice, feeling the apple of his cheeks color with embarrassed heat. 

"You mean you thought you knew better than someone who's had these powers for decades," she clarified, giving him a meaningful look while she picked terracotta pieces out of his foot. 

The obsidian familiar of the house had clambered up the back of the couch, purring loudly, after having been frightened off by the smashing pottery. His little golden eyes remained glued to the bleeding man, despite the fact that his owner, the woman who woke up at all hours to feed him, was right there. "I thought if I could get some sort of grips on what little I can do, then –" 

"You can't logic yourself into being a better floramancer. It doesn't work that way, Harry." Alex had turned to his hand, wiping away at the blood with the fabric of her own shirt to get a ballpark of the damage he had inflicted upon himself at the shattering pot.

"So you keep reminding me," he muttered, looking at the floor with a frown, the fingers of his uninjured hand deep within the fluffy black fur of the curious kitten in an attempt to keep him from interrupting Alex's work. 

"We are not lords and masters over the plants; we are allies," she lectured, poking and prodding at the tender flesh of his palm with her fingers. "Until you learn to speak their language, they're not going to see you as anything else as a funny pet they appease if they're in the mood. It'll take time and it'll take patience. And, you, I told you to keep him from doing anything stupid, Lemongrass." The kitten made a yip of protest, resting across the Brit's chest and kneading him affectionately. "Furry brat." With a sigh, she finished her assessment of his hand. "Har, you're going to need stitches. We should probably go to the hospital."

"No." His response had been too hasty for it to be casual. Fear of hospitals, the medical profession, and pain had been an unfortunate side effect of his mortality. Harry would admit that he spent far too long thinking that he would (literally) live forever, though the illusion was now shattered and he had to admit the doctor's scared him immensely. 

"Babe," she started, though stopped rather quickly, knowing she would ask the same. "I could give you a salve, but you won't be able to use your hand for at least a week, and you'll scar and maybe you'll have other issues –" She drifted off at the puppy-eyed stare he was throwing in her direction, chipping away at her resolve to be the responsible adult in favor of humoring him. Responsibility won over. " _Hey_ ," she bit out, snapping her fingers in front of his face a few times to break him from his reverie. "Get your _head_ out of your _ass_. You aren't a meek, helpless, wallflower and I'm not going to coddle you just because you're scared. If you were within your wits, you'd agree. You've fought vampires, served as demon bait, and literally gone to Hell – I think you'll live through a few stitches."

____

"Is he _okay_?" Mel asked in hushed tones, fussing around the kitchen to brew a large pot of tea for all of them, looking at the table where Harry sat brooding, his hand covered in crisp, clean bandages. 

Alex snorted, rolling her eyes and watching as Maggie engaged the surly ex-whitelighter in conversation, making his frown lessen considerably. "He's just surly because I out-Harry'ed him. Not having his powers has messed with his head."

"Well, he looks a lot better, though. Your transfer seems to be working," Mel offered, helpfully, shooting the other woman a sympathetic smile. 

"He's OK for the moment, assuming that he stops hurting himself," she grumbled, earning her a laugh. "He has a severe case of FOMO, though, and without any real control over my powers and his being gone... well, you know he's not super patient," she explained, and the sister widened her eyes in understanding. 

"Yeah, he's not so great with practicing what he preaches – hence the years of illicit relationships, rule-breaking and thin patience with practice, but I digress. In any case, you're doing everything you can, Ally." The time witch sighed. "The S'arcana and the Elders were a no-go, by the way."

"I expected as much, but thanks for trying, Mel. I know that it really touched him to know you've been so adamant about his reinstatement," Alex assured, giving the sister's shoulder a squeeze. 

"You guys are family, and if this week has taught me anything it's that family is the only people you can rely on," Mel assured, looking a little sad. She had told Alex about her falling out with Jada, and her subsequent meeting with Niko when she met Greta for the first time. It had been a rough week all around, to be certain. "Plus, having Harry without his powers has made it _so much easier_ to talk trash about him."

"I can _hear_ you two, you know," Harry called, head propped on his elbow with a giggling Maggie perched in a seat beside her. 

Both gave him bright, beaming smiles, putting on their most innocent faces. "Love you, Meghan Markle." "Whatcha going to do about it, punk?" Mel and Alex responded, simultaneously, chittering amongst themselves and collecting all the tea accoutrements before settling around the table with Harry and Maggie. 

Macy took the stairs down by twos, arms laden with books and an excited gleam in her eye. "Sorry. Got distracted."

"OK, Har Bear," Maggie began, looking very business-like all of a sudden. "All you know about being a whitelighter. Now."

"Well," Macy began, opening the book of shadows to a page with tightly scripted handwriting. "There might be a more _reliable_ way of getting to the root of whitelighter magic."

Harry frowned, leaning curiously over the table to read the script, upside down. "A secret decoding spell? It's a fine idea, Macy, but I don't know what it would help decipher a secret I no longer _have_."

"I think it's meant for me, Sherlock," Alex quipped, after a half second of silence. Macy nodded in agreement. 

"I would strongly advise against that," he started, seeming more the neurotic, teetotaler whitelighter he was. "There is a million things about floramancers and Alex that we do not know – that we don't _need_ to know."

"And that is so sweet and noble and considerate and _stupid_ ," Macy rebuked, smiling kindly at the man. "Harry, we need our whitelighter back. Alex does what she can, and we are so grateful to her, but..."

"I don't have the know-how or the healing ability, as you can attest to," Alex gestured at his hand with a flourish. "And I'm not whitelighter material," she lifted a hand to silence his protest. "No, don't argue. I'm either hiding in a corner or out for blood with no in-between."

"You protect them," he protested. 

"I ensure survival because it's what I do, but I can't call it protection, Har."

Mel sighed, taking Harry's hand, gently minding the bandages and stitches beneath them. "I understand the hesitation. This is the first time you've drifted away from the law, but you don't owe the Elders anything, anymore and you don't have to be scared."

"We don't just need you to advise and protect us, Har Bear," Maggie pouted with a bat of her eyes. "It's for you, too. We can't lose you."

"You're a hazard to yourself, dude, and LG is clearly not an effective familiar." Alex commented, bumping his knee with hers. 

"Because he's _your_ cat, Alex."

"I'm pretty sure he's yours he's been yours this whole time." The sisters all murmured their agreement and nodded. "Macy, what do we need for the spell?"

"You get to take a nap while we root around your head," she declared with a grin, ignoring the slightly worried expression that had replaced the certainty Alex's face held just a moment before. 

The sisters stood around the floramancer as she made herself comfortable on the sofa. The woman had pulled a blanket over her body, burrowing into the cushions as if there wasn't going to be a terribly invasive procedure. Harry sat at the very edge of the cushions, anxiously brushing her brown curly locks out of her eyes as he stared blankly into space. 

"Harry!" Mel insisted, breaking the man out of her reverie. "Come on, we're burning daylight here!" She held Macy's hand in her left and held her right out at him, Maggie offering her left, at the same time. 

"Pardon?" He was confused and his brow furrowed instantly in question. 

"You're coming with us, duh!" Maggie cleared, wriggling her fingers to urge him to hold on. 

"I can't. I'm not..." His face lit up excitedly, the thrill of a new experience tingling at his nerve endings. "Although, now that I think about it, I guess I am close enough to a witch, at present." His eyes fell onto the bundled woman beside him. "But, I can't leave Alex to fend for herself, I'll –"

Alex snorted, rolling her eyes. "I'll be asleep, Har. I'll be golden." Her green eyes watched as he fidgeted in his place, clearly torn between the two options and she offered him a warm smile in return for his anxiety. "If anyone can navigate the hellhole that is my brain in an efficient manner, it's going to be you. Protect me by finding our answers as quick as possible." She playfully pinched his side to coax a smile out of him. "Plus, we both know you've been _dying_ to play witch."

"And you'll be OK?" He questioned, insistently, leveling his gaze with hers in that manner that made her want to reply sarcastically just to deflect attention. 

"Again. I'll be napping. How much better can I get?" The Brit sighed, leaning down to press his lips against hers in a brief kiss before getting to his feet, pointedly ignoring the _ooh_ -ing chorus that surrounded them. With burning ears, he took the two sister's hands in his and held on awkwardly, making sure not to irritate his stitches. 

Macy smiled, rolling her shoulders to loosen up her stance before she started reciting. " _Retexit anima tua denuda turpitudinem tuam animam meam. Quam plurima secreta et specie videamus._ " (1)

Slowly, the others joined into the chanting. Harry noticed that the spell-casting felt more natural than he thought it would, though he supposed it was because it was second nature to Alex. In the pit of his stomach, he could feel the roiling of magical ability bubbling to his words, shaping itself into the idea of what he thought was going to happen. Alex had blinked asleep with every repetition of the spell, and he could almost feel her consciousness join his own in a manner not dissimilar to what he already had with her when his whitelighter abilities were still with him. 

The shifting into her consciousness was uncomfortable, but as he inhaled a lungful of lavender and cocoa butter conditioner, Harry could safely say that he felt at home. He expected her mind to be crazily disorganized. Of course, then he remembered that despite everything, Alexandra was the _Queen_ of compartmentalization, and it showed. They weren't in a room, but rather a void where emotions were cleanly organized in neat little rows, invisible to the naked eye, but that he could feel sparking on his skin and beckoning him like a siren's call. So, when Mel asked for him to think about whitelighter magic and how to reach it, he immediately followed a blur of color whizzing by with no other certainty than it _felt_ right. 

With nothing more than a curious look between the sisters, they had marched in a non-descript direction with Harry leading the pack. A few more steps had them stepping through a warm threshold and into a spacious, airy kitchen where a torrent of delicious smells wafted through the breeze and heat clung to their skin. The gentle mint green of the walls was familiar and Harry smiled as he pressed his palm to the wall, noting that the paint was fresh and not time-worn and faded, as he had seen it a few weeks prior. At the counter, a young Alex sat on her knees in a chair, propping her head on her hands as she watched her grandmother chopping vegetables for the meal. Her curls were wild and knotted, and her legs were splotched with dirt and mud as if she had just come in from rolling around in the grass (which, knowing her, it was damn possible). 

Behind him, Mel cooed, skirting around his smirking form to pet the bouncy curls on little Alex's head and turning to the others with a loving pout. "Tiny Ally is so precious, guys!"

"Mel, we talked about hair-petting," Macy reminded, giving her a look and attempting to ignore her sister's pleas of _but look at her_. "She's adorable, but please be quiet. We're missing things," she urged, nodding at the grandmother.

" _Coño_ ," the woman cursed, putting down the knife and clamping her right hand over her left index finger to staunch the blood from where she had just sliced her finger with the knife. 

"Abuela! Potty mouth!" Alex hissed, reaching for a napkin from the rack beside her. "Here! Napkin!"

Maggie leaned in and whispered. "Why isn't the audio sync'ed?"

"Alex knows my Spanish is rubbish and she's a gem, so she's likely translating," he whispered back, as if it were a perfectly normal response. 

They watched as the little girl closed her napkin-wrapped hand on her grandmother's finger with knotted brow. "I should get Abuelo," the little girl urged, clambering from her seat to the floor, her grandmother's finger still in her hand. 

Harry stepped forward, tilting his head, curiously. "Wait. _There._ " He pointed at the faint glowing that flickered but a brief moment before the little girl had let go just long enough to run off outside and return a moment later with her grandfather, in tow. The scene was fading away, not before showing that the cut was no longer there when the grandfather peeled away the napkin.

A second later, they were on the move, once more. They had arrived in an outdoor scene, fuzzy and difficult to focus on, at first. They were in a cave overlooking a cliff face, staring at Alex who was playfully conjuring trees on a whim, her arms crossing over her chest in an X shape, and plants bursting from the ground as she extended her arms forward and planted one of her feet before her. Her brown hair rolled down her back in glossy curls that reached her waist and she stood barefoot in her jean shorts and t-shirt looking statuesque, graceful, and in her element.

"Damn, puberty hit Short Stack like a train, though," Maggie remarked, looking at the younger version of Alex with an expression of awe. "Good job on bagging that, Meghan Markle." Though he pretended not to have heard, a chuckle bubbled to the top of his throat, and the man tried very hard not look too pleased with himself as he watched Alex giggle and raise another tree with little more than a flourish. 

"That's real cute, Alex, but can you focus on the actual spells I'm teaching you?" A man's voice attempted to scold, though it was apparent by the lightness of his tone that he was the littlest bit amused. As he rounded the corner, the four saw a tall man, maybe in his forties with dark skin and tightly cropped short hair smirk at the young witch. Rolling her eyes, Alex stood back rolling her neck and limbering her arms before crossing her arms again. His features looked vaguely familiar, and it wasn't until Macy spoke up that anyone else placed it. 

The telekinetic witch narrowed her gaze at this newcomer, as if a secret was suddenly going to reveal itself. "That's funny. That guy looks a little like my dad." She gestured her jaw. "Same jaw and eyes." Before the group could discuss anything further, their two subjects were back in action.

"Guami'ke'ni, Yuke'io. Gua'rico guaki'a! (2)" When she gestured forward the floor began to shake and the wind picked up leaves from the ground and sent them in a spiral around them, moving anything and everything in its way and threatening to shake the cavern loose from its foundations. "Tei-toca(3)," she whispered, and at once everything seemed to revert back to normal, as if nothing had ever happened. "I'm paying attention, Rob."

Harry turned his gaze to the whitelighter, who seemed to appreciate his charge's rebellious nature and ease of learning more like a father would appreciate their children's artwork. "Show off."

Alex shrugged. "Yeah, well, if you've got it, flaunt it." Despite the happy mood the two seemed to in, Harry could not help but feel dread lodged at the pit of his stomach. This was not the elated, light-hearted memories of her childhood that seemed to sparkle with life. This memory seemed gritty and dark and was accompanied by the oddest sense of _deja_ –

There was a crackle outside the cavern's entrance, like the sound of a portal opening and immediately Rob had immediately tasked Alex with hiding, and they watched as she struggled to get her camouflage spell to work under pressure of the oncoming threat. Harry could sense where the day was going. He prayed to any deity who would care for this not to be the moment he assumed, because if it was, he was going to have a gaggle of very irate women around him in a very short moment. His eyes clenched closed the second he heard the voice, an echo of his own. "No, you don't have to do this _now_. You promised me the day, Charity. You've been traveling for the better part of six months now." 

Charity's voice sighed. "Are you going to argue with me every time I have to cancel plans? I have a duty to serve the council, and as much as I'd love to spend the day with you, there is a romancer –"

"A necromancer?" Harry's voice interrupted, still beyond their line of sight. "We haven't been warned about a necromancer for ages."

"No, a floramancer, but –"

He guffawed, and in the present Harry admitted to himself that he sounded like a twat. "What, is she going to kill you of _hay fever_ , is she?" He replied, sarcastically, egging the Elder on. "Floramancers aren't a threat, and you know that."

"The laws are clear about what we are meant to do in the instance that we run into one of them."

Around him, the sisters huddled closer to the once-whitelighter and stared him down with deep frowns, vitriol brewing in their insides for his guts, at the moment. "Harry, is that _you_?" Mel asked, lowly, a face that could kill him several times over, if possible. He nodded, sheepishly, his partly opened eyes fixed only on the struggling plant witch with her back to the slick cavern wall. 

"Save your anger. It gets worse," he whispered. "Rob's going to die, now." 

"You accompanied her to a murder!?" Macy burst out, appalled. 

"I didn't know what it was when I followed her out!" He defended. "I thought – I thought she was seeing someone else," he admitted, his cheeks coloring.

Alex, meanwhile, had only managed to get partially hidden, as she frantically looked over at the cave entrance to bide her time. The witch had never been good under pressure. Unbeknownst to her, Past Harry had stared dead straight at the corner where Alex was struggling to hide, and his heart had gone out to the girl when he saw that she was so young, barely in control of herself and having issues with a simple camouflage spell. Just as Charity had turned to enter the cavern, Harry had grabbed hold of her arm and pointed at a patch of peculiar lavender sprouting out if the cracks in the stone. "Is that centaur lavender?" He asked, gesturing at the brush before he glanced shortly into the cave to see the last floating curl of the witch had disappeared completely. "Forget it, Charity. I promised Fiona to help her with a potion."

"I'll make it up to you later." Past Harry had disappeared, leaving present Harry confused, but mostly horrified at the fact that this had become nothing more than a blip to his mind. He watched in horror as Charity argued with the whitelighter. The sisters had all turned their eyes away when she demanded to know the location of his charge and lashed at him with the plasma lasso. He did not. He had argued enough times that Charity Callaghan could never hurt a fly, and only did what she was told. This was his penance for not believing Alex the first time. What was worse was that Alex _knew_ it had been him with Charity all those years ago. He recalled asking Alex where she had hid during this murder, and she had quickly responded that she was hidden in a corner, watching him bleed out. _How about you, lover boy?_ had been her response. She might not have seen him, but he heard his voice. He always assumed one of the Charmed Ones had told Alex about their relationship. He wondered how long it had taken her to connect the dots and how she could possibly love him when she knew he had just abandoned them to their fate. Forty five minutes later, Charity had given up her search and left, leaving Alex to come out of hiding to try and save her whitelighter. It had not been successful. 

"You fucking asshole!" Mel had yelled as she marched out towards the void, arms crossed and a scowl on her face. "You left her there to die! And don't give me that _I didn't know_ shit. If you didn't know what would happen, you wouldn't have given Alex time to hide. You stalled. You _knew_ Charity would come for her. Her whitelighter is _dead_ because of you."

"Mel, calm down!" Macy interrupted, standing between the angered sister and the man who had seemingly given up. "He's dead because of Charity. She could have easily let him go. It's not _completely_ Harry's fault that he was dating a psychopath."

"In any case," Maggie continued, trying to bring them back to the matter at hand, "we didn't learn anything important. Why were we sent here?"

"Lavender," he croaked, his shoulders slumping as he buried his hands in the pockets of his trousers. "I associate Alex with lavender and I've never known why. It's what bought her enough time to hide. It's our connection."

"Are you sure you're doing this right, Har?" The empath asked, sighing. 

He sighed. "Of course I'm not. I don't know what I'm looking for. I just follow what I feel would take us to our answers." Harry was exasperated, which took the sisters aback, considering he was usually cool as a cucumber even as demons were tearing away his skin to feast on his bones. Mortality came with panic that he was not well-equipped with handling. To be honest, he didn't even want his whitelighter powers back, after what he just saw. All he wanted to do was go out and spend the rest of his mortal life groveling for forgiveness. 

"And, you're doing fine. Let's all just, settle down and let's go to our next stop," Macy reasoned, looking at each member of the group, in turn and receiving a nod in answer. "Harry?" Wordlessly, Harry turned on his heel and stomped in a new direction, walking for a long while, or what felt like a long while, before they had emerged in a new area. It seemed that for them to reach their destination, they had to walk through metaphoric cobwebs and strip away borders that defended the image. Once they were a the other side, Harry recognized the scene, immediately. That memory haunted his dreams, many a night, he thought to himself as he watched Alex's mangled body strewn on the ground, broken and in pain, as she brought back Marcus from the dead and passed out a second later. 

The first place her body had orbed to had been, funnily enough, Hilltowne. They were in a dark alley, behind what he knew to be the Haunt. Out of the shadows, Marisol Vera's form emerged and immediately rushed to Alex's side. 

"Mom?" The three sisters chorused as the Elder mumbled a spell under her breath, wide-eyed at the vision before them. 

"Ale, come on, sweetie. Wake up, hon," the woman whispered, trailing her fingers over her cheek. She growled. "Callaghan better get to killing me quick before I decide to off her, first."

Maggie yelped at the barely veiled threat her mother delivered. "Did Charity kill Alex, too?" Harry shrugged, truly ignorant of the circumstances of the floramancer's demise. That part of the story had not been in Alex's vantage point and she had not had enough time to consult the flowers, therefore, it had been shrouded from her memory. 

Marisol opened a portal and levitated the young woman off the ground, stepping through realms as Harry, Maggie, Mel and Macy followed, closely behind. They were suddenly in a lush, dense forest, humid and warm, in a hut hidden amongst the trees. The words were no longer being translated, as they spoke to each other in hushed, hurried tones at the Elder's arrival. "Yúcahu," she called, and from among the small crowd that had gathered, a woman who looked no older than her forties stepped forward, her warm brown eyes widening, the whites making a stark contrast against her copper skin. 

"Alejandra!" The woman rushed past the others, sinking to her feet beside Marisol and speaking in an ancient tongue that Harry could not place. He assumed it was taíno, and the explorers watched solemnly as the two women firstly drove what looked like a spike made of shadows into Alex's chest to keep her from orbing and quickly set to heal her: Marisol with spells, Yúcahu with plants. 

What seemed like an eternity later, Alex had blinked awake, her gaze disoriented and heavy as it fell on the ancient woman beside her. "Abuela?" She asked briefly, shaking her head in disbelief, eyes full of tears before her vision cleared once more and focused on the woman. "Tatarabuela."

"Her great-great grandmother?" Mel quipped. "Concussed?"

"No. It's just her great-great grandmother, several times over," Harry explained, his tone holding the same disbelief as Alex's did. "That is the first recorded floramancer on the island. But she didn't remember anything about her. I know she didn't –"

"Tití Mari?" Alex had twisted her neck to the other side and stared at Marisol. "Aunt Marisol, did I save him? Is Marcus OK?"

"Marcus is fine, Ale. I called his mom and he was OK. Shaken up, but fine." The Elder brushed away the tears falling down her blood-stained face with a loving smile. "I know that if Rob could see you now, he would be so proud of you."

"Good. I don't want to keep losing Uncle Dexter's family members," she whispered back, sniffling. "I already cost him a brother, I couldn't cost him his nephew, too." Macy gasped and Maggie was quick to take her hand in an act of comfort as they watched the action unfold. 

Marisol frowned, taking Alex's chin in her hand and tilting it up towards her with a disapproving look. "You have cost him nothing. Dexter already lost Robert once through no fault of yours, and don't think for one second that he wouldn't lay his life on the line for you, if he needed to. He loved your parents and he loves you. So stop saying silly things."

"I just want to stop running, Aunt M. Clearly, they're not going to stop any time soon and going after Marcus... they've shown that they'll put innocents on the line just to cull me. I should just stay here and go into hiding." Alex was weeping, though it seemed like she had not noticed that she was doing so. Yúcahu sat whispering quiet words behind her, tracing large circles on the young witch's back with the palm of her hand before reaching up to shake the gravel out of dense curls and nimbly tying the hair into a thick plait down the young woman's back. 

With a sigh, Marisol lowered her gaze, eyeing the tattered areas of the ruined sundress. "There is so much left for you to do, Ale. Things you won't understand now, but you will, one day." There was a long stretch of silence before she said anything else. "I've seen it in my visions. I've seen you make a life. It'll require sacrifices you never thought imaginable, but I know that you will be an amazing witch... and an accomplished romancer."

Alex sighed. She had heard the spiel many a time before, but it never helped to dissipate that awful feeling that she was not wanted in the magical world outside of the small floramancer community in el Yunque. "Not with the council at my back at every turn. I can't be out there, anymore. Not unless... unless you bind me." The young witch frowned, looking quite pained. "That's it, isn't it? You have to bind me, don't you?"

"To start. I'll also have to block some of your memories." Marisol now looked sad, eyes dampening at the weight of the words to follow. "The only way to protect you is to sever your connections to a lot of the magical world. A lot of your life – your powers, your family, me, the girls – will be spotty, at best."

"No! That's not fair! Aunt Marisol, I promised Macy to take her out to the water park for her birthday –" The look on Alex's face betrayed the fact that she knew it was a terrible excuse, but she didn't know what else to do.

"Only for a little while," Marisol assured, taking one of her hands in hers. "Only because you're part of something so much bigger and I'm going to need you to be OK and watch over my girls, down the line."

"How will I do that if I can't remember them?" Alex burst, looking more frustrated than Harry had ever seen her. Beside him, Mel had reached for his hand and squeezed, an immense sorrow marring her features. This expedition now felt awfully intrusive, and if Mel was having a hard time watching the scene, he could only imagine Macy and Maggie were about to have a breakdown on his other side. "I can't survive on my own. You know I'm a mess!"

"Love is the strongest bond and I know you'll find your way back to us, doll." The Elder cleared her throat from the tight knot that had taken residence there before she continued. "I will never let anything happen to you. As long as I am alive, nothing will ever harm you, and when I'm gone, your powers will filter back and you'll be able to defend yourself and your cousins." She smiled kindly at the trembling young woman. "You might even meet a cute guy."

"That is the _least_ of my concerns, Tia," Alex riposted, knotting her brow. "I don't know if you've noticed but dating is a hot mess in this family. I'll pass on the idea of dying for some loser, thank you very much. Whitelighter or otherwise."

There was a smirk on Vera's face that made Alex want to scream. "How do you know he'll be a loser?"

"Have you met me? I'm the Queen of rotten luck. He'll probably end up being pedantic... or a stuck-up Brit... or both, _God forbid_." The sound of Maggie snorting through her tears knocked Harry out of his reverie, glancing towards the other two sisters where they stood hugging and quietly crying just a second prior. He rolled his eyes at her, darting a disapproving look between them before turning back to watching Alex's form anxious and vibrating in expectation of what was to come. "What about Tata?" Alex gestured the quiet taíno woman fussing in a motherly fashion about her. Marisol shook her head sadly. "Aracoel, na-neke(4)," she whispered to the older floramancer, blinking away a fresh wave of tears. 

"Nanichi. Taíno tí, manicato(4)," the woman responded, before adding. "We will watch you always, from afar. Always be safe from harm. Lonely, never alone." Her accent was thick and carried a musicality that was akin to the beating of drums and commanded the same attention. Her deceptively young face held wisdom of the years hidden beneath layers of a tough heart and abundant love for all of her children's children's children. Harry could tell this departure was hurting her, too. 

Alex clenched her jaw until she frowned, plastering a determined look on her face before nodding, decisively. "Do it, now. Before I chicken out, please." The two older women nodded at each other, holding hands and circling the younger woman while they started chanting in two different languages. "Robert. Dexter. Marisol. Macy. Mel. Maggie. Marcus. Robert. Dexter. Marisol. Macy. Mel. Maggie. Marcus," she whispered to herself, thinking that if she repeated it for long enough, she wouldn't forget their names, or their faces, or who they were to her. As hard as she tried, though her words drawled out and she fell limply backwards, the spell taking effect. Yúcahu said a short prayer for her child before removing the shadowy spike from her chest. When she opened her eyes, Alex was in northern Wales and a farmer was staring at her, questioningly, before she disappeared again. The foursome fell back into the living room with a communal gasp, letting go of each other's hands as if they had been on fire, though her faces were all wet with tears. This adventure had been – well, much more than they had bargained for, that was for damn sure.

TBC

-  
Rough translations:  
(1) Reveal the secrets of the soul and all the mysteries it may hold.  
(1) Lord of the Earth and Waters. Spirit of the Mountain. Come to us.  
(2) Be still  
(3) Grandmother, why me?


	28. De-classified intel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Powers? Check. Fluff? Check. Psychopath with unlimited power? Still on the loose.

Alex awoke with a start, immediately groaning and clutching her head like she had just woken up with a hangover. "That was a _wild_ dream. Who knew Houdini could do that?" Her green eyes focused long enough to lock eyes with the others. "Did you guys get anything?" The floramancer sat up and swung her legs over the side of the couch and Macy sat down beside her, eyes full of tears making her joking tone immediately turn to concern. "Mace, what's wrong?"

"Alex, do you remember Robert's last name?" The telekinetic witch asked, her voice trembling. 

"Yeah, of course I do. It was...," her mind blanked as she struggled to grasp for the word that dangled before her. "That's weird. I definitely know it. It's on the tip of my tongue, I just can't..."

"It's the binding spell. Quickly, get the Book of Shadows," Harry asked Mel, who shot off to the attic, at once. 

"We need a floramancer to unbind her, too. It was a two-part spell. I get that you're kind of one, atm, but I don't see you speaking taíno on the regs, Harry." Maggie broke, spotting a flaw in their plan. 

Harry shrugged, putting his hands up in defeat. "I know, Maggie. I think I'm the best we can do, for the moment, as I can't orb and Alex will get us marooned if she tries to get to that floramancer community." 

"Hey! I resent that!" Alex quipped, though no one seemed to take note.

"I mean, it's not the worse odds we've had, I'm just saying, not a walk in the park," the empath conceded, shrugging, as well. 

"Anyway, I bet you Marisol kept a copy of Yúcahu's spell in the book." The Brit nodded, collecting an assortment of candles from the hallway closet. 

Alex moved her head back and forth following the busy witches, thoroughly lost as to what had happened while she had been asleep. Still, at the moment, she was more concerned at the fact that it all seemed to involve some sort of spell and _her_. "Anyone going to get me up to speed or...?" Macy had left her side to rush through the pages of the Book of Shadows with Mel, while Maggie and Harry prepared the room for the unbinding. "No one? Seriously?"

"You were right, Harry. The taíno spell was hidden with Mom's unbinding spell," Macy commented, reading over the missive before turning the book towards the Brit who scanned the page with a triumphant smile. 

"Excellent. We need to get back into position around her and –" He was gesturing the couch with his index finger and the girls were all already taking their positions before another sound of protest was made. 

"WILL ANYONE FUCKING TELL ME WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?" Alex bellowed. 

Maggie groaned, rolling her eyes at the outburst. "Your powers and memories are partly bound and we kind of need you to unleash the Poison Ivy within to get you and Harry back to fighting shape."

"So. Many. Questions." The botanist frowned, making faces at the people surrounding her. "Sure sounds like they were bound for a _reason_. Isn't this super dangerous?"

"If there were any easy way to explain this, believe me, I would make use of it," Harry assured, briefly letting go of Maggie's hand to tilt Alex's chin towards him. "Do you trust me? Enough to make a very serious decision for you?" He was holding her gaze in an intense stare and she could only nod her approval. "I promise it'll make sense in a moment." Reluctantly releasing her face, he clasped Maggie's hand once more and glanced at the spell book precariously balanced on the back of the sofa. The chorus of chanting took flight, latin and taíno filling the air in an eerie sort of mumble. Harry found himself stumbling through thick, clunky words that he was not used to pronouncing before they suddenly felt natural to his tongue, much like all magic before then was proving to be. 

" _Han ha'n catu_ " "Let it be so" They four finished, simultaneously before the shutters to all the windows blew open, and a deafening wind rushed into the house. Papers, leaves, dust kicked around the air, swirling angrily before it rattled windows and doors on their hinges. 

"Tei-toca, Hu'racan." Alex's voice had projected above the din of the gusts and had immediately silenced its howling, leaving nothing but some disorganized papers in its wake. The five of them remained immobile in stunned silence for several minutes as the floramancer sat awkwardly with her left hand extended before her in stasis. Another minute ticked by before the hand fell beside her and she cleared her throat, glancing at Macy out of the corner of her eye. "Vaughn. Robert Vaughn," Alex announced, tapping her fingers against her denim-clad thigh in an anxious fashion. "You know how I don't like drinking?" There was a noise of recognition that she could not tell where it came from. "Fuck that. I want to get plastered."

"Ugh, I've never agreed with anything more in my life. I'll crack open the wine," Maggie announced, marching towards the kitchen, her high-heeled boots clicking against the hardwood floor. 

Puffing out her cheeks and slowly releasing her breath through pursed lips, the botanist, stretched out her limbs to quell the ache she felt within them. There was an onslaught of feelings, of prickling, of memories, of powers that were flooding back into her veins and her body was not ready for such an assault. Harry tilted his head and narrowed his gaze in concern as he took a knee in front of her and cupped her cheek. She was looking peaky and right when the man thought she was going to throw up, she surprised by flickering in and out of existence in quick succession while she groaned. "No, no, no. What's happening? Alex?"

Looking like an old-timey projection, each flicker showed as she moved her hands into tightened fists and her eyes shut tightly. "I can see why whitelighter genes are dormant, now," she rasped through clenched teeth.

Macy flipped back to the binding spell, keeping the incantation at the ready. "What's wrong? Do we re-bind you?"

"No… no. Just…" she panted laboriously. "I need a grounding spell. The shadowy shit to keep me from orbing randomly," she managed to get out before she doubled over in pain, whining over the sound of pages being passed. "Page twenty three, bottom right." Harry did not ask how she knew the location of the spell. It was clear her memories were back and she was sure to remember minute details about her life before Hilltowne. Alex was always good with remembering details: how he took his tea, what bakery was Maggie's favorite, the exact location of the remote control - it was a gift. Harry, on the other hand, had noticed he was painfully oblivious to most things around him when he didn't have that whitelighter power coursing through his veins. And right now, he was of no help whatsoever, as he could not touch the quickly phasing woman to offer comfort. 

" _Clauderent viam inter sint. Attachiamentum spiritus eam in terram._ " Macy chanted, forcing the dark spike the appeared in her hand into Alex's chest, watching in relief as the flickering stopped and her body stilled. 

With a great sigh, Alex fell backward into the couch, trying to catch her breath and feeling like she ran an ultramarathon. "Fucking conditionally expressed genes, man." Her green eyes opened just a sliver and fell upon Harry's still panicked expression, his hands holding her thighs down as if the threat had been that she was full of helium and going to float away. "I'm fine, Greenwood. Take a breath, you're turning purple." She chuckled when the ex-whitelighter took an audible breath, though his hold remained strong. Maggie appeared a moment later with load of mismatched cups (not wineglasses, because why be classy at a moment like this) and an open bottle of wine. She quickly parsed out the libations and encouraged Alex to down her first drink in one so she could refill her cup, immediately. The second cup she sipped delicately from, feeling the weight of all the Charmed Ones' eyes on her, and Harry puppy-dog stare from below. "Go ahead. Knock yourselves out."

"You knew our mom?" Mel was the first to interject, a look of nostalgia crossing her brown eyes. "You knew us?"

Alex nodded, tracing her finger over the rim of her cup as she smiled to herself. "Yeah. Our families were old friends back home. Then your mom married a man who had recently lost his older brother. Turns out his brother wasn't really _dead_. He was Harry dead and was friends with my Dad." All eyes were on her, and she shifted slightly uncomfortable with the ever-watchful gaze. "When my parents… well, he took over the protection part of my life. Your mom taught me magic, outside of the traditional floramancy and since Rob was kind of my second dad, then she was my aunt. She was stoked about it. I was the practice child for when you came along, Macy." The telekinetic witch smiled, feeling like her connection to her family was deepening, somehow. "She always made sure I was taken care of. Even after the binding. When I moved to Hilltowne, she was the person I confided in and took advice from. I always thought it was because she was another Puerto Rican in academia." Grinning, she leaned forward glancing up at Maggie who had taken a seat on the coffee table across. "I was babysitting you when you said your first word. It was _cat_ because I had a… a black cat. Named Lemongrass." She scrubbed her eyes with her free hand. "Oh, Lord, I reused a cat name. I'm one of _those_ people."

"I'm sure the mangy pest won't take it as a personal insult," Harry quipped.

"At least his middle name is original. I certainly didn't know you, then." Alex admitted, before tagging on a caveat. "Well, not by name, anyway." The whole room winced at the remark, but the tone she used was not malice, but as matter-of-fact. 

Harry breathed deeply, his hands retreating from her form and clamping uncomfortably close to his own. "I understand if you don't want to have any contact with me-"

"Boy, I've known it was you since I learned you were a whitelighter and not a demon. There are easier ways to get rid of you than risking my whole goddamn existence," the young woman interrupted, rolling her eyes at her lover. "Pendejo."

"Potty mouth," Maggie said, singsong, grinning broadly while the other woman shrugged. Her grin turned into a sweet smile as she looked onto Alex with undistilled emotion. "You gave up everything on the off-chance that it would help us, Ally. That is huge."

The botanist waved the sentiment away as if it weren't a life-changing big deal. "Life as a recluse in the forest? Nah, I got the better end of that bargain. Even if I _did_ end up in Michigan."

"But, your memories," Macy argued, shrugging. "Your identity, your powers."

"I trusted Aunt Marisol, implicitly. She promised I'd get everything back. 'Lo and behold, here we are." Alex sighed, sipping from her wine with a little more fervor. "Still don't know where that cute guy she promised me is, but I'm sure he'll be along any minute now." They all chuckled, Harry chancing an upwards glance to catch her wink at him, playfully. His stomach felt warm and full of tornado-ing butterflies, all of a sudden. Draining her cup, she frowned. "This increased, first-night whitelighter metabolism isn't letting me get drunk, by the way. Care to swap?"

"Powers?" He looked like a deer caught in the headlights for a moment, as he stared up with an innocent expression. Alex nodded. "Is it safe? For you, I mean." He quickly asked, his brow knotting in concern. 

"Safer than I am right now," she replied, wincing at an unseen force. "I can't have both sides full-force in me. They'll tear me apart."

"Do you need us to bring or prepare anything?" Mel asked, grabbing the Book of Shadows and randomly flipping pages. 

Alex nodded. "Just get the grounding spell out of me, but have one prepared for Harry the second I finish the transfer or he'll bounce around all over the place the rest of the night." For a moment, she hesitated to continue. "And maybe… make some space. It could get messy." The sisters nodded, working quickly to move the furniture aside. 

Maggie had conjured another grounding spell while Macy waited for Alex's signal to remove her own. Harry stood in front of Alex with shaking legs, anxious about how this transfer would go and whether it would be of any help. He had sort of resigned himself to a life of intermittent mortality at Alex's side and for a second, the errant thought that he didn't want to go back to being a whitelighter had flashed across his mind. He knew it was a foolish, selfish thought, but the simplicity the life had afforded him had been enthralling. Alex gestured him with her head and he returned a nod, offering his arms, palms up to her. Careful not to disturb his stitches, Alex had clasped his hands watching as the contact made them glow an ethereal blue; the whitelighter magic was recognizing its old vessel. With a look over her shoulder at Macy, the grounding spell was removed and Alex flickered in out of phase once more. 

Tightening her grip on Harry's hands, Alex's flickering slowed as she concentrated hard on the whitelighter magic that was filling her to the brim and let it pool into her palms in a warm, tingling light. With it came the rattling of objects on shelves and quivering of glass as the magic resonated so powerfully it made waves. " _Power of the protector, hear my plea. Find your vessel outside of me. Search for the one strong of heart, that will lead others out of the dark._ " The glow of the spell was becoming almost too bright for their eyes, and they spied through half-lidded stares as the magic pulsed and decided whether or not the offered vessel was worthy of the power. " _Power of the protector, hear me now. This soul has taken a solemn vow. Of pure heart and valiant mind, a promise is made to remain kind._ " Magic was now seeping into Harry's palms, making the veins in his arms glow an iridescent blue with every beat and he clenched his teeth at the seething burn just under his skin. "Power of the protector, the choice is made. Let their light be eternal and never fade. May the voice of the innocent ring in their ears and always be present to combat their fears. Power of the protector, let it be so." The glow suddenly engulfed Harry like a brilliant blue flame and he threw his head back in a silent scream as the magic forced its way into his system. The striking aura persisted for several minutes before it imploded into nothingness within Harry's chest and the man started to flicker. "Maggie, now!" Maggie pressed the shadowy stake into his chest and the flickering ceased. For half second, it seemed like everything was fine, until Harry attempted to take a step and his knees buckled underneath his own weight, leaving Maggie and Alex to catch him and slowly lower him to the floor. 

"Harry!" Macy cried, as she and Mel joined Maggie and Alex on the floor. 

Harry clenched his teeth in pain, refusing to let the scream of pain he was holding in his throat escape. "It's fine. I'm fine. I just forgot that this hurts like the dickens," he hissed. "Alex, how the fuck did you manage coherent thought with this?"

Alex snorted. "You haven't had magical period cramps, bud. This is child's play." The whitelighter still had his hands clasped tightly to hers. His labored breathing was a testament that he was not squeezing as hard as his pain warranted. "Don't hyperventilate, now, Greenwood. Breathe slowly, in and out."

Harry nodded frantically in agreement, trying to concentrate on the beating of his heart to try and still its erratic thumping. _Come on, Har. Don't make me panic._ The man did a double-take at the floramancer, releasing one of her hands long enough to tilt her chin in his direction and stared down the line of her small nose at her. _Not the weirdest thing he's ever done, let's be honest._ In the absurdity of it all, the man let out a long peel of laughter, which sounded the littlest bit demented considering the groans of pain that lined it. _I stand corrected._ "I heard that. Brat." The smile that was tugging at the side of his mouth was sincere.

"Oh, shit. It worked," Alex replied, eyes widening.

"You sound surprised," he noted, suspiciously. 

"It was a seventy-five percent chance against, so…" she let the sentiment hang in the air. "Maybe we should have bet on it." The whitelighter forced a laugh out of his lungs in response and gave her captive hand a squeeze.

"Harry, you OK?" Mel asked, and his name echoed noisily in his skull in summons. 

"Bloody fantastic." He grinned, sitting up and massaging his temple. "I believe you may have your whitelighter back, after all." He had barely managed to get his spine straight before Maggie had launched herself into his chest and crushed him in a hug that left them teetering backwards for a second before Alex had stuck out an arm to steady them. Her sisters did not waste any time in joining and soon all three of the Charmed Ones had glommed onto their whitelighter and muttering about how much they had missed him. With a gentle, rumbling tone, he reassured them that he was fine and that nothing short of complete evisceration was going to keep him away from his girls. He lifted his brown eyes at Alex and offered a watery smile that she knew was just shy of ending in emotional tears. 

"Harry, we have something to tell you," Mel spoke up, reluctantly letting go of him and a sad frown filling her features. "It's about Fiona."

\--

The room was dark when Alex woke. Beside her the sheets were cool and ruffled, letting her know that its occupant had been gone for a while. With a sigh, she threw the sheets off of herself and padded quietly on the carpeted floor of Harry's bedroom and went off into the shadowy corridor. The lamp in the study was on, a dim, flickery thing that she joked was from the dark ages, considering it still used Edison lightbulbs. When she turned to look in the door, she found Harry in his pajamas, sitting on his knees with a window box full of lavender before him, watching as the plants danced and opened their flowers at his whim. His eyes raised when he sensed her movement, flashing a sheepish smile at the onlooker. "I was curious as to whether I could still… I can… it's silly."

"No, I get it. Plants are uncomplicated and you sort of like it," she said back, in the same whispered tone as she rested against the doorway. "Those powers may fade as your whitelighter powers stabilize, but for now, you can still do… whatever it is you do with plants. Re-enact Hamlet?"

"No. I was asking for advice, actually," he admitted, his cheeks turning the slightest bit pink. 

"Unless their recommendation was _get back in bed with your girlfriend_ , I don't think it's worth it."

"Actually, their recommendation was kill the Keeper. Well, that and permanently join with you which I am not sure if it's a euphemism or a code for marriage," he riposted, smirking at Alex's guarded expression. 

The woman started her sentence several times before any sound actually came out. "Right. You have fun with that and I'm going back to bed." With a roll of her eyes, she made to turn away.

"And what of the plants' counsel?" He gestured the lavender, forcing Alex to turn back, looking as though she was debating walloping him and placing a rather nasty hex on him for keeping her away from her beloved mattress and pillows for even a second longer than was necessary. Harry quite liked the idea that he was playing with fire. 

"We're 100% stopping Fiona, as soon as possible, and the joining thing is a little bit of both, actually," she replied through a yawn. " _Hard pass_ on the marriage part, by the way," she added, quickly, ignoring the enigmatic smile creeping onto his face. 

"I think you're lying," He chanted, singsong, eyes shining with mirth. 

Alex scoffed, narrowing her gaze. "You know, when I got you your powers back it was so you'd stop being such a fucking weirdo."

"Your lips say _weirdo_ but your mind says _I'm bargaining for an eternity with that devilishly handsome accent_ ," he riposted with a pointed wiggling of his eyebrows.

"I could not give less of a shit if-" Alex started to defend, but was cut off. 

Harry grinned impishly, his whole countenance lighting up in a grin. "I mean, I get it. You want to keep me around, but now that I'm not subject to the Elder's rule there is nothing stopping me from actually committing. Must be scary."

The floramancer snorted. "Actually, there is quite a big thing stopping you, and it's the Redwood tree I will stuff your corpse inside of if you continue this conversation."

The whitelighter worried his bottom lip between his teeth as he resisted teasing her any further. Having his powers with no strings attached was actually going better than he had anticipated and it showed in his demeanor, much to Alex's chagrin. "I love you, too, Alex."

"Get your annoying, British ass back in bed." Her tone was deadpan, which made him bite his lip harder to keep from laughing. The apples of her cheeks had colored quite violently at his words, unbidden as they were. The Brit could feel a calm buzzing immediately filling his head and his chest that made him feel well-loved in their own way. Feeling her take residence back in his mind was most welcoming, despite the fact that with the augmented, unbound power, a mere annoyance felt like a dagger slashing through his brain, but those tiny little pockets of affection felt like great oceans, in the same vein. 

"Yes, dear. Of course, dear," he replied, getting to his feet and ignoring the annoyed groan she gave in response. He shuffled behind her with a self-satisfied smile, enjoying the pleasant prickle on his skin whenever he reached out before him to place his hand on the small of her back. Quietly following her into the crisp white bedsheets, he watched with rapt interest as she dozed off into a dream and instead of the bloom of flowers that usually erupted on her skin, the whole room burst into Spring and swayed to the rhythm of her breathing. 

TBC


	29. War casualties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got this update done and I'm posting before I get buried under a mountain of work, again. Might have some fluff on the next chapter to break the tension. Enjoy!

Harry Greenwood paced the length of the living room, his left arm crossed over his chest while his right pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off the ever-looming migraine boiling just behind his eyes. The morning had gone less than stellar. The girls had found new and exciting ways to annoy each other and at a certain point he thought there was going to be an all-out brawl before he had managed to intercede. Mel was angry at Macy, Maggie was concerned about Parker, Macy was getting increasingly dark, and it wasn't like he had an Elder council to consult with nowadays. The ancient texts within his library were going to have to do, he supposed. 

The front door slammed open and shuddered against the wall, pulling the whitelighter from his reverie and breaking the million mile stride he was building up. "Harry!" Alex's roar was enough to get him to pounce forward the several feet to the front door, watching as Elder Silver stepped into view with an angry, floramancer conjuring barbs and thorns to keep the apparent threat contained. "Why is there an _Elder_ camped out in my apartment and why does she say she had _your_ permission to do so? Also, since when do you have _any_ say as to who can or cannot enter my apartment?" She spat out the title as if it were the most disgusting word she had ever thought to utter. Her jaw was clenched so tightly that it shook, and Harry thought that her teeth would crack if she were to tighten the hold any more. He mentally admonished himself. Macy's demonic episode had completely erased the reminder that he was meant to _tell_ Alex of his plans. 

"We have a situation," he started, hesitantly, grateful for the fact that she didn't immediately start arguing, instead blinking slowly at him, as if debating whether murder was justified or not. "Hunter has killed the other Elders and I suggested to hide Elder Silver in your flat, as a floramancer's abode is the last place anyone would look." His mouth struggled to make words under the steel blade of her emerald gaze. "A lot came up and I forgot to call you to issue a warning, love." Harry forced a chuckle out, trying to lighten the mood, pointedly ignoring the petulant eyeroll the Elder had directed towards him accompanied by the _love_ muttered sarcastically under her breath. "Now is not the time, Elder Silver," he warned, narrowing his gaze on the woman in white. "You have impeccable timing, though. We have a plan."

They stood in the middle of the Haunt, colorful streamers hung from the ceiling and music was blaring from every speaker in a shuddering boom. A small shiver ran the length of his spine at the sight of the demon dancing with the sorority sisters, seemingly enjoying himself in the celebrations. When Mel stopped time and Elder Silver moved them to an adjacent dimension, his senses went into hyperdrive. His charges were fearless, immediately taking the offensive against the demon while he pulled the sage back. Debris from a broken chair flew past them, and the air was forced from his lungs when Alex tugged them both, rather roughly, and out of the way of a splinter that embedded itself in the wall behind them. 

Recovering from the fright, he tried to drag Alex back a safe distance away from the projectiles and off-mark spells. With a growl, she turned back to face him, her face looking far more severe than he had ever seen it. "You want this Elder alive or not?" He nodded dumbly. A second wave of debris hit and the demon slid across the floor to rest at her feet. It took barely a second for Alex to raise a weeping willow that tangled its droopy branches around his form and tossed him back to the sisters before the Brit had even managed to pull the woman aside. "Harry, I mean it!" She huffed, "You have no defenses. What are you going to do, orb him to death?" The noise of battle had settled slightly, and the three huddled in the corner looked up to see the three sisters lancing the demon through with Maggie's staff. Just before dissolving into nothingness, Hunter tossed his knife in their direction. Alex was quick to pull Harry out of the way of the sharp implement, but was not quick enough to do the same with the sage, and just as the demon fluttered away, so did the last essence of the Elder and they were back in the noisy Haunt. 

"We are _so fucked_ ," Macy muttered, falling onto the bottom step of the foyer between her sisters and Alex and accepting the shot glass Harry was holding out to her. 

Harry smiled sadly at the witch, feeling just as lost as she did, but knowing he had to maintain a semblance of calm determination to reassure his charges. He patted her hair, gently, before he turned to refill Alex's shot glass. The plant witch had been mortally silent and misty-eyed since their return, muttering to herself about conjuring walls rather than pulling them out of the way. And though he knew that she was going to torture herself for a lot longer, he knew in his bones that that dagger was going to end up lodged in the Elder's heart, regardless of what she tried. He fell beside her, pressing a kiss to her temple before pouring himself a shot. 

" _A mal tiempo, buena cara_. The Elders." The women all chorused back before Alex had jumped to her feet and made a hasty exit out the front door. Macy clung to his hand before he managed to spring to his feet and follow her. The telekinetic witch shook her head at him and gestured him back onto the step. 

"Don't, Har. She's… conflicted. Just let her walk it off," Maggie offered, softly and he watched the closed door for a half moment, nodding and sitting back down beside Macy. 

Alexandra had not returned until the wee hours of the night, rousing him from tumultuous slumber by slipping in beside him in the bedroom the sisters had graciously prepared him, in the attic. Sleepily he had blinked his brown gaze over her in the pitch black, not needing all that much light to see her sitting red-eyed and numb before silently fulfilling her desire of being wrapped in his embrace and pulling the covers over her form. "Hey," he whispered into her ear, enjoying the tremors of the shiver that ran the length of her spine at the low pitch of his voice. His arms tightened around her on their own accord. "You're allowed to be sad at the death of the Elders _and_ be angry with them." The witch had merely nodded before drifting into fitful slumber.   
__

Harry tried his very best to look like nothing more than a professor in a rush. He power-walked down the corridor of the environmental science building, smiling politely at the students walking past. He turned the corner into an empty hallway and broke into a sprint, the jacket of his plaid suit fluttering behind him in an invisible wind before he slid in front of the clear glass panes of the plant science lab. As if on cue, Alex looked up from the concoction stirring atop a hot plate in a large beaker, catching sight of his comically large eyes. The steam swirling over the beaker let him know that the mixture was not likely a science experiment. Especially considering that one look at his anxious expression had her pouring the mix into small twist-top vials and stuffing them into the front pocket of her overalls before ripping her lab coat off. He had already started running the opposite direction, hearing her shorter strides catching up to him a moment later. Extending his hand, he caught Alex's in his grip and the disappeared from view with a whoosh. 

Maggie was waiting for them on the other side, staff in hand, and an impatient look on her face. "Wait, I thought you were going to grab Mel. Did you… did you tell her what were doing?"

"What's going on?" Alex asked, breathless, her eyes dancing from Harry to Maggie. 

"We need to find Charity," he started, already unsure of the darkened hue her eyes took at the mention, "and we need to keep her safe. She is the last sage."

Alex took a shuddering breath, swallowing the million expletives that were likely boiling on her tongue. "Why do you need _me_?"

"I can't _orb them to death_ , remember?" His voice was barely above a whisper. When this whole thing was finished, _if_ this whole thing were ever to finish, he was going to have to make it up to her in blood, it seemed. "I wouldn't be asking you if it weren't entirely necessary. If something happens to me, I need you to take Maggie, and--"

"I get it, Har. I'll do it. Only because it's for you. Otherwise, bring on the fucking apocalypse because she's dead to me, as it is," Alex interrupted, running a hand through her curls in frustration. "I better be getting into heaven after this, I swear." 

Maggie snickered beside her, looking between the couple with doe-y eyes and a whining sound. "Goals."

They reached the Garden, with barely a rustle of leaves. For a brief reprieve, Harry watched Alex's eyes widen in wonder, looking at all the leafy wonder that surrounded them in bright, impressive colors. The pattern of the floral shirt under her overalls nearly blended into the background and he could swear that the vegetation had perked up around her, as if recognizing an old friend. Alex had plucked two snow drops and slipped one into Harry's jacket pocket and another into Maggie's hair without offering any other explanation before a noise drew their attention. Their eyes all fell onto Charity, who was bent over prying a plant from the soil and who made to run the second she spotted the trio standing within witching distance. Harry and Maggie forged ahead leaving Alex to dawdle a little ways away, muttering something about ruining her lunch at the sight of the other woman. 

Harry glanced over his shoulder, gesturing with his head for Alex to approach and holding his hand open for her to take as Charity rambled. "This plant contains the key ingredient of the Akkadian Smokescreen, the only spell that can keep me permanently hidden, but it takes years to bloom. I need a witch willing to speed up the growth cycle," Charity explained, her sparkling gaze falling on the floramancer who had sauntered up to the group with the whitelighters hand in hers. 

With a fluttering lips, Harry and Maggie chanced a glance at the glaring Alex, her brow furrowed into a scowl so deep, Harry surmised it was actually painful to hold the expression. "You've got to be _fucking. Kidding. Me._ " His grip on her hand tightened and effectively reigned her in just as he sensed a pounce coming. "Is she for real?" Her voice had dropped several decibels, gaze on him. 

Harry and Maggie looked at each other and nodded. "Orb and get Mel," they said in unison. 

"Just fucking hand it over before I kill her, myself," the smaller woman spat, tugging Harry back onto his feet, mid-orb, much to his utter surprise. Being pulled out of phase was definitely a first, but there were a ridiculous amount of firsts when it came to Alex. Considering that the last time she was angry, though still bound, she had conjured a dangerous forest out of nothingness, he thought he should make it a point to keep her temper in check, now that the breadth of her abilities was free and untamed.

"While we're having this moment, can I just say that you can burn in Hell forever, you absolute evil-"

" _Maggie_ ," Harry warned, his hand on Alex's shoulder as he bridged the gap between his irate lover and the woman who had, in short, ruined his life, and moving the plant between them. "It has to be at peak bloom for the spell to work," he whispered quietly, his head bowed so his lips were beside Alex's ear. She nodded in return, raising her hands over his, her fingers brushing the leaves as if rousing them from a deep sleep and they both watched as the plant grew from tender shoots, to a small stalk, to a bulb that was just beginning to take shape. 

"Is that Parker?" Alex removed her hands from the plant as she started and her attention was diverted to the smoke demon currently grappling with Maggie. "I-I'm not done yet, Harry."

Amidst her panic, Maggie was quick to engage Parker, leaving Harry and Alex to corral Charity away from harm. The empath was quick with her staff, managing to pin the half-demon down and force him to flee. "We're not safe here, anymore. Maggie, come on," Harry called before orbing them away. He left Maggie in the living room before taking Charity and Alex to the Vortex. "Alex, keep her safe," he commanded, putting his hand to a rune and forcing the plant to continue growing. The floramancer nodded, twisting her neck to loosen the tense muscles and settle down her form. 

"We can't be here! Fiona can find me here!" Charity urged, nudging the whitelighter. 

"We have no choice. I need the power of the Vortex to complete the Akkadian Smokescreen," Harry explained, his face screwed up in concentration. 

The blonde choked back a sob. "Please, just hurry. Hurry. Fiona can find me."

The crackling of the vortex opening at the end of the room did not surprise Harry. He knew they were fighting against the clock, but he was cautiously optimistic that they would barely scrape through, as he had nearly completed the bloom. Alex slipped before Fiona, her hands creating a glowing yellow orb and her feet planted firmly onto the stone below. " _Macaná tí_." Wooden clubs sprang from her hands and barely made the Keeper miss a step before she blew them aside. " _Bombarda!_ " The witch was blown back several feet before sweeping a hand and sending Alex flying into the wall with a groan right before a buzzing red energy accumulated in her hands and she stepped lightly towards her sister. 

"Fiona, no!" Harry bellowed, but was too late. 

"See you soon, Har," Fiona said, nonchalantly before stepping backwards into the portal and disappearing. 

By the time the whitelighter had reached the Elder, she was staring up at the ceiling with blank eyes. Biting his bottom lip, he dug his fingers into his hair, nearly pulling out the threads tangled in his digits in frustration. Swallowing the groan that was threatening to escape, he turned, instead, to Alex and helped her to a sitting position. There was a cut on her right orbital rim from where she had hit the wall, and he was sure that there was a concussion in there, somewhere. "Ale, doll. Are you with me?"

"Siento como si me hubieran dado una carga de palos," she whispered clutching at her head. "I feel like a truck hit me," she clarified when his expression remained blank. "You really need to learn some better Spanish."

"I know," he said through a watery chuckle. "Let me heal you," he added, peeling her hand away from her bleeding forehead and letting the warm prickle of magic seep through his palm. 

"I'm sorry. I couldn't stop her, Harry," she whispered in a small voice. "I really tried."

"No, you did brilliant. Some things are just… destined," he replied, softly, brushing her hair back, trying to catch her fleeting gaze, before his mind rung. Where they ever going to catch a break? "That's Mel. Come. Quickly."

They appeared before Mel in the foyer, barely touching the ground before being yelled at by the middle sister. "Alistair took Maggie. We need to get Macy and save her." Harry flickered out, instantly, but he was gone for several minutes before returning with a distraught Macy. He felt exhausted, sad, confused, and a million other things that he thought did not have a name, as of yet. The Elders, Charity, Galvin, all dead, and the oncoming storm of the end was still looming above them, complete with blood rain. No. The answer was no, they weren't going to be catching a break any time soon. 

He had orbed into the thick of the forest where Macy had pointed them to, and they had found Maggie but a moment later flanked by the jailers, Alistair and Fiona. Before they had even had the chance to form a plan, Fiona lit the Flame, but without her immortality, she had fallen to her knees at his feet and begged for healing. His heart broke, his instincts had his palms itching, but his conscience had forced his hands into fists and stepped back, prompting Alex to take hold of his shaking arm while he refused and she disappeared in a blast of light and the surge of flames. Parker had appeared a moment later, ready to battle his father to fight for Maggie's freedom.

"You're not the only one," Macy declared, her mind already leaps and bounds ahead from everyone else's. With a flick of her wrist, she took the Origin Dagger from Parker's chest and into her own, walking into the flame before anyone had the presence of mind to stop her. The flames turned from visible darkness to golden tongues as she crossed the threshold, getting Maggie free. 

"Mace, what have you done!?" Alex called, surging forward, just as Alistair's form blew away in the breeze like ash. Her hands cupped the younger woman's face as she inspected her with a worried expression. "What have you done? Are you crazy?"

"I saved them," Macy replied, airily, her eyes golden beacons against her darker skin. "You should take me to the water park, as a treat," she joked, recalling days long past and smiling at Alex, reassuringly. "Let's go home," she added, and before anyone could say any different, they were back in the ancestral home. 

"Yeah, don't ever do that again, Macy," Alex complained, doubling over and looking as if she were going to be sick over the floor. 

"Niko is going to be fine," Macy announced, without prompting. "And the memories of everyone in town have been erased, so no one will know this happened."

"Perhaps we should discuss about these new powers, Macy," Harry attempted, giving his charge a kind smile.

"There is nothing to discuss, besides there is something else I need to do," she retorted, easily. 

"But, this is kind of important," Maggie cut in, looking uneasy. 

"Like I said, I have one more thing to do." The Source was gone before any other protests could be offered. 

"We're fucked again, aren't we?" Alex asked, turning towards the other in the same space Macy had just occupied. 

Harry nodded, raising his gaze to her. "Undoubtedly so," he replied, turning on his heel to lay a hand on either of Maggie and Mel's shoulders, bending slightly at the knees to level his gaze. "Are you both alright? Do you need anything?"

"I wouldn't say no to some tea and scones," Mel replied, pouting slightly and taking her sister's hand, watching as the empath's eyes welled up with the memory of the last day. "Other than that, I think we're OK."

The whitelighter nodded, offering a tight-lipped smile and a gentle squeeze of their shoulders. The gesture had earned him a smile in return from Mel, but Maggie had launched herself into his chest and started to sob, hand still clinging to Mel's. After the surprise had settled, he heaved a sad sigh and draped an arm around her frame. "Come on, Maggie. Let's get you some chamomile." 

Though they had ended the day on a relative _win_ , none of them felt accomplished. Maggie sat beside Mel, nursing a steaming cup of tea and chatting quietly while Harry pulled the first batch of lavender and lemon scones out of the oven as Alex turned out a second batch of dough onto the floured countertop. "If you make any more we'll be eating scones for a month."

"Don't bake-shame me, Greenwood!" She muttered, before her eyes widened in panic. " _Greenwood!_ I didn't go home last night, Lemongrass-"

"He's in Maggie's room and fine," he assured with a smirk, nuzzling her hair before pressing a kiss to her crown. "I'm pretty sure he didn't notice you were gone, to be honest."

"Of course he bloody didn't," she quipped, rolling her eyes. 

Maggie let out a snort, the first bit of sunshine since they had returned. "Bloody?"

"It seems the British haven't lost their touch with colonization," Mel commented, sticking out her tongue at the playful glare Harry directed at her. 

"That joke is problematic on so many fronts," Harry riposted.

"Kinda like the British colonizers, you mean?" The look on the time witch's face was quite smug. 

The defense died on his tongue. "Touché." There was a warm fluttering in his chest as he placed the second batch of scones in the oven and promptly placed the flour and baking powder on the very top shelf of the cabinet, despite the sounds of protest from the woman beside him. "Stop your grousing. You can't bake yourself into an unfeeling mass, and you know that."

"I'm not-"

"Are you seriously arguing about this with the person with a direct line into your brain?" He asked, deadpan, when she shrugged, he pointed her towards a seat at the table. A cup of tea and a scone traveled from his hands to the table before her. "Now, I know you're all worried," he started, dusting off his charcoal slacks and sinking into a chair beside Alex and across the sisters. "Perhaps, everything will be fine. The Source was meant to destroy Parker's human side, but that didn't happen to Macy. She transformed the energy. Maybe… maybe this is alright."

The floramancer sipped deeply from her tea and daintily placed the cup back onto the saucer. "It's Macy. If anyone can figure out how to contain it, it's her." Mel and Maggie made a noise of reluctant assent. "The best we can do is sleep on it and hope tomorrow isn't half as fucked as today has been. In the meantime, we can look into how to help Parker and get some rest."

"Since when are you so bossy?" Harry asked jokingly, nudging her side with his elbow. 

Alex awkwardly swallowed a bite of scone that didn't seem to want to go down. "Since I just realized that, without an Elder council, there is nothing left to enforce the magical truce between beings." Her face turned towards him, brow furrowed. "We should start making friends, soon."


	30. Initial contact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed a break from the current plot, so I fluffed it up. My babies are cute.

Harry Greenwood watched his lover command a multitude of plants, all in their individual planters, from his position propped against the doorway. Her hands weaved in the air above the plants, coaxing them from their slumber and getting them to the exact right point of growth so she could pluck leaves, fruit, and flowers to add to potion they both hoped never to use. Macy, since receiving the Source, was alarmingly laissez faire with her deeds, changing the course of events by using her power to influence the world. It had taken a well-aimed handful of sleeping spores to the face to fell the witch and once Harry had put Macy to bed, she had started on a potion that would temporarily render her powerless with the ingredients in her living room. The tiny notch between her eyebrows that formed from concentration, the way she had captured her bottom lip between her teeth, the curls that fell into her eyes but remained ignored -she was the picture of flawless focus, and for a brief moment, he wondered how he had ever come to be so lucky as to have ended up with this goddess. He smiled to himself. To think he had thought her nothing but a child when they met. 

"Whitelighter Greenwood, we have given you every possible advantage since your arrival to Hilltowne. How is it that you've yet to ensure the participation of the Charmed Ones?" Elder Rooke, asked, narrowing her violet gaze on Harry, a single, sharp, ginger eyebrow raising along with her question. 

Harry cleared his throat, straightening the waistcoat of his favorite charcoal suit around his frame, once more. "These things take time. They've no idea that Marisol was a witch and they've only just come together. Anyone would hesitate before making a decision this important, especially when they do not know what it entails."

The Elder harrumphed, choosing to ignore his argument in favor of running a single digit over the mantlepiece over his fireplace, looking disdainfully at the light layer of dust the gathered on her finger from the condo being unoccupied for so long before Harry's arrival. "I expect there to be a change before the end of the week, Whitelighter Greenwood," she said acerbically, forcing Harry to swallow a long list of expletives that were dying to come out of his throat. "Truly Harry, I do believe we pay you well enough to get a housekeeper to set up your home, decently." 

The woman had disappeared before he could defend himself to say that he had been taken out of a very nice place in Hertford, England, where he was content to drink away the sorrow of losing his charge, only to be sent to Middle of Nowhere, Michigan. If they wanted quick results with no concern about the girls' wellbeing or opinion on the matter, they should have sent Tessa in his place. Besides, he had already been looking for a housekeeper, and if the Elder had popped in for a visit a few days later, she probably would have found his abode in a different state; as if someone _lived_ in it. Deciding it wasn't worth his time to argue with himself about hypothetical scenarios, he heaved a great sigh and began pushing boxes aside to carve a trail to his bedroom so he could get some rest. Maybe, if the Universe was kind, he would die and the Charmed Ones would become _someone else's problem_.

However, it seemed that it would not be so, for in the morning he woke up to the sound of his alarm and worried himself with doing some organizing before changing and heading down to the coffee shop a few blocks away. While he had been in the professor's lounge at the Women Studies department, he had seen adverts for housekeeping services attached to the community announcements board and had set up a meeting with the young lady offering services. She had recommended the coffee shop, apparently a favorite spot for graduate students looking to caffeinate and write in peace and quiet whereas the undergrads usually went to the Starbucks down the street. He was early to the meeting, yesterday's conversation weighing heavy on his mind while he marched to the register and ordered a Builder's tea and a lemon and lavender scone with cream and jam. He had been pleasantly surprised when they had handed him a mug with a freshly-packed infuser of loose tea leaves and a packet of honey along with a plate with his warm scone, cream and jam on the side. One breath had filled his lungs with the fresh, flowery scent of the baked good, along with the rich aroma of tea. He supposed he could have had worse places to meet. 

He settled down on a table at the back of the shop, warm gaze flittering over every patron, trying to establish the level of magical engagement in the community while he distractedly sipped from his tea. The scalding liquid hit his tongue and filled his body with deep, dark flavors that made him think of his little cottage in Hertford. The scone evoked a similar response, and he assumed that the kitchens were preparing another batch of pastries, as the smell of lavender was currently wafting through the air and drawing his attention until it was nearly the only thing he could think of. 

"Good morning, Professor Greenwood." The voice knocked him out of his trance, and he looked up from his plate at a young woman clad in jeans, a novelty Doctor Who tshirt, and converse looking down at him from under the mess of chocolate curls spilling into her eyes from the shaggy pixie cut they were styled into. Despite the fact that she was clearly very young, the hair at her temples and fringe were peppered with greys far beyond what was normal for someone that age and made for an interesting contrast. "I'm glad you found the place alright. It's kind of a hole in the wall."

"It rather is, but I made it just fine. Thank you. You're Miss Alexandra Figueroa, yes?" He asked, smiling pleasantly.

"That would be me, yes," she replied, standing awkwardly behind the empty seat across from Harry, briefly glancing at the chair and back at him. 

"Oh, please, sit. Pardon, I was so flabbergasted to have found a decent cup of tea that I've forgotten my manners," he declared, gesturing to the seat and watching as the woman smiled, placing her mug and plate across from him and pulling the chair out. He evaluated her closely. She was young, and polite to a fault, no doubt bred from years of heeding the advice of her older relatives on how to behave around adults. It was a fairly common trait among latino people.  
"I'm a coffee drinker myself, but I have to say that I am a sucker for a good English breakfast tea," she quipped in a conspiratory whisper. From her back pocket, her mobile trilled, and she shifted in place to retrieve the device, immediately. "I apologize. I thought I had put it on silent. It's just my grad student." With a quick tap, the phone was put on silent and placed face down on the table beside her mug. 

"Your grad student? Shouldn't you answer? They might need you for something," he prompted, furrowing his brow slightly. 

"Despite what my previous experiences might say, I think she'll survive an hour without me, Professor Greenwood," she retorted with a wry smile, nursing her mug with two hands and sipping deeply.

He chuckled to himself. "You should hope you don't need a letter of recommendation from them, I suppose."

A curious eyebrow quirked at the comment. "Why would I need a letter of recommendation from them?"

"Undergrads often need letters of recommendation from their supervisors to apply for positions or graduate studies," he explained, his tone bordering just to of pedantic. 

The young woman smirked, trying to hide the peel of laughter that so wanted to escape by biting on the peanut butter bar from her plate. "I see you have not read my background credentials," she offered, brilliant green eyes alight with mischief. 

Harry rolled his eyes, wanting to say something about the youth of today as he flipped open the manila folder where he had printed out her CV and lay abandoned on the table, his mind having been too distracted by tea to read through it prior to her arrival. He looked at the information up top, her personal information. Information declaring her Alejandra C. Figueroa, PhD. A quick scan downwards showed her current position as _Assistant Professor, Department of Ecology, Hilltowne University_ and the whitelighter wished the earth would swallow him whole. "I…er… didn't realize you were um part of the University faculty."

"Well, clearly, Professor," she riposted, smiling into her drink. "I started my position a couple of months ago and assistant professorships pay next to nothing, so… here I am."

"Right. It's very noble. Not many people would… well, a lot of others would have… getting positions in academia is…" He struggled to find something to say that didn't make him sound like a posh twat that had just been handed a very cushy position as a department head (which was exactly what had happened) and was failing miserably. 

"I'm not too proud as to think that it's beneath me to do manual labor, sir." She said, her expression serious. "I need to make ends meet one way or another. I thought this would be a good place to start."

"Right. Of course, I mean…" he bit down on his tongue before he could continue putting his foot in his mouth. "Er… what were your rates again?"

"Thirty dollars a day, flat rate, for just coming in and giving the whole place a once-over, or thirteen dollars an hour, for anything else," she replied, sipping daintily from her cup and settling into her seat with a calculating expression in her eyes. 

Frankly, none of those words meant absolutely anything to Harry, so it was hard to decide whether or not he was getting fleeced or not. In any case, he was sure that they payment was no problem for him (being alive for so long did have its perks). "Can you do five days a week?" He asked, trying to do something, anything to rectify the hole he had dug himself into previously. 

Alex frowned, confused. "Planning on having a ton of ragers, sir?"

"I just… er… like to keep a clean house, is all." He drained his cup, sad that the little bit of homely comfort he had found was gone now. "What do you say?"

"Yeah, that would be fine. You can scale back down the road, if need be," she explained, cautiously. 

"No need. So, when can you start?"

Harry blinked away the memories as he watched Alex chant under her breath, a gentle green glow surrounding her form as she mixed the spell ingredients in the cast iron cauldron in front of her. A few weeks ago she could barely speed up plant growth. Now she was bending the creatures to her every whim and establishing her position as a preternatural tamer of the wild. One every single front, Alex was, well, breathtaking. 

"This needs to brew overnight, but I think we'll be good to go, afterward," Alex said, smiling over her shoulder at the distracted Harry, who was staring at her rather intensely. 

"Thank you, Alex. You're a lifesaver," he said with a sigh before kicking off the wall and closing the distance between them. "Are you ready to go to bed, love?"

She nodded, and he offered his hand to pull her off of her feet. "Your place or mine?"

"Either is fine by me," he replied shortly, putting an arm around her shoulders and tucking her head under his chin and letting the witch burrow into his side with a sigh of contentment. "Perhaps we should consolidate. Have it be the same place," he commented off-handedly, the witch absent-mindedly nodding assent. 

The words had not caught up to the floramancer until a few moments later. "Wait, _what_?"


	31. Prisoner of war

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Closing out the season plotline with this chapter. So, we can get back to our regularly scheduled fluff and humor.

Being tossed from reality to reality had left Harry with a bad taste in his mouth, and that was not just because of the shouted words Alex had offered just before the wild goose chase had begun. The floramancer had managed to calm Macy down, get her talking, albeit nervously and flashing into moments where she was only the Source. She had gotten as far as soothing Macy and taking her hand, offering a small sense of comfort before Harry had said something stupid. He had been upset and had reacted very viscerally, threatening with a vial of the potion Alex had brewed the night before. Before the Source had managed to get a word in, edgewise, Alex had stepped between them. She accused the whitelighter of not doing his job; she accused him of being falling prey to the two-dimensional sense of morality the Elders had indoctrinated him with; she had accused him of being biased. She had been right, but before he could say anything to rectify his backwards beliefs, they had been sent to an alternate timeline. 

After a few false starts, he had gotten Mel and Maggie back, using a potion meant for whitelighters to recover their past memories. They had found Macy, they had confronted her, it had ended poorly, and thus they were tossed into a dystopian reality where the demons had taken to power and the windows of the ancestral Vera home had been boarded up. Mel and Maggie stood with Marisol, searching for spells to rectify the situation before a faint pop alerted them of a new arrival. A dagger made out of elephant ivory whizzed through the air and met its mark, pinning them to the wall while a shriek of anguish was released. 

"What the fuck Aunt Marisol!?" Alex roared, clad entirely in black, which made her already small body look even tinier. A long scar ran from an inch above her right eyebrow, all the way to her jaw, and the eye on that side was nowhere to be found. Harry gasped, watching the dagger that was poking out of her shoulder drip crimson onto the dusty floor. 

"Sorry, Alex!" The older woman apologized, in a rush, her concern torn between trying to help her daughters find the correct spell to send them back to their timeline and attending the niece currently nailed to the wall. 

The whitelighter waved her off, closing the distance between them and tentatively raising a hand. The floramancer did not offer a complaint, and so he wrapped his slender fingers around the hilt of the dagger and pulled with a mighty tug, using the wall as a counterbalance. The lone emerald eye stared seemingly into his soul as it caught his gaze. He broke the painful contact to heal her shoulder with a quick pass of his hands. 

"Alexandra," he began, cautiously, "we've met before, right?" He waited for her to have the same sense of déjà vu he had had before realizing his memory had been tampered with, but rather than the slightly confused gazing that he had seen on Mel and Maggie, Alex had just blinked slowly (and rather exasperatedly) at him. 

"You're uncircumcised and have a birthmark on the inside of your left thigh," she replied, deadpan. "Yeah, Greenwood, I think we've met." Rolling her eye, she stepped by him and towards the Veras. "Have you found the spells? I mean, not that I don't like having you back, Auntie M, but I miss having both eyes."

"Wait, you remember us?" Maggie asked, confused. 

Alex nodded. "Macy didn't erase my memory. She was more focused on… well, you guys."

"You could've just said that," Harry grumbled, coming up alongside her. 

The floramancer snorted. "And miss that priceless face? Have _you_ met me?"

With the timeline reset, they were transported to the moment they got back to the home after Macy had taken on the Source. The conversation had not changed as much as they had hoped. It was a little more guarded, but Macy still felt like her sisters and whitelighter were ganging up on her as they forced her to give up the Source. Macy had reacted and flung Mel through the banister on the second floor, they had been sent to New York, shortly after, except Alex had not been with them when they arrived. It made sense to him, instantly. Macy had not wiped Alex's memory, not because she was inconsequential, but because Alex's only concern was protecting her putative cousin from harm, regardless of whether or not she was the Source. To Macy, the floramancer was currently the only person in her corner, which is why she had kept her close in all realities, and that was currently in their favor. He hoped that the plant witch's good graces were enough to convince Macy that she had to stop altering reality. 

Harry could hear Alex's soothing tones as he orbed himself and his charges into the attic. "Mace, they _love_ you."

"They're scared of me! God, I'm scared of me," the witch cried back, pacing anxiously. "All I wanted was for them to be happy. For all of us to be happy, together."

"Sweets, do you know how many times I have wished for a way for my family to come back? To fix all the awfulness that happened to them just so I can spend one more night with them?" Alex wiped her eyes roughly, before trying to catch the other's gaze. "I love them _so much_ that it hurts when I think about how I lost them, but… but the fact of the matter is that I wouldn't have you… Mel, Maggie, you, _Harry_ … if they had survived. You're the smartest person that I know. I know you know this, too." She smiled a watery smile before adding, "You can't make a rainbow-"

"Without a little rain," Macy completed, sniffling. "Dad used to say that."

"Yeah, it was a favorite of Rob's; said it all the goddamn time. I guess your dad picked it up," Alex commented with a sigh. "Annoying as hell when all you wanted was to be angsty."

"Macy," Maggie interrupted, causing the duo to look up and at the newcomers. 

"GO AWAY!" Macy roared, her eyes flashing golden, once more and an eerie wind picking up around them. "I told you to stay away from me!"

"We just want to help," Mel yelled, but the second she stepped forward, the stiff wind picked her and Maggie up and was threatening to throw the sisters out the window. 

Alex cracked her neck, her shoulders stiffening into a set position and her hands reaching forward. "Macy, don't. Fight it." There was hesitation in her form, but a definite potential for follow-through if the telekinetic with did not comply. "Come on, don't make me… please, I am tired and I don't want to do this."

"They don't love me. They'll leave the first chance they get!" A loud thump signaled Harry hitting a back wall and trying desperately to reach out and grab Mel, who was nearest him. "It's too strong!" She cried, gasping at the ravage of the Source's power through her body. From the corner, Harry tried to blink his eyes open against the winds, making sure that Maggie and Mel didn't need to be rescued mid-air, but his eyes would become blurry the second they tried to focus on the forms clinging to the wood. 

The storm roiled even harder, and Alex clenched her jaw as she put all her power into surrounding Macy with equally strong gale-force winds, muttering under her breath in a long string of taíno with every spell she could possibly think of. The floramancer, despite her efforts, was ever so slowly slipping back and had to walk against the gusts to try and regain her footing. Her scant weight was making it difficult to remain in a position optimal for fighting back against Source's power. "Macy, you need to control it!"

"I can't!"

Harry decided it was definitely time to move. They were going to all die if they stayed in their positions, so he clawed beside him to try and reach Mel, who was closest to him. "Mel, give me your hand, I can orb you out!" Harry called over the ruckus. 

"No! I'm not leaving her!" Mel yelled back, adamantly. 

Maggie nodded, though the gesture was lost to the chaos. "Neither am I. We're not going to leave you Macy, no matter what."

"No matter what? Really?" The storm still raged, but Macy seemed to have more clarity than a moment prior, and Alex had managed to stop the brunt of the assault, both her hands glowing a bright green and sweat pouring down her brow. The gales suddenly stopped, and Alex dropped her hands before promptly doubling over, panting. Harry couldn't tell much, but she looked like she was in pain and completely exhausted. 

Still breathing hard, she stepped towards where Macy stood, her eyes full of tears before she grabbed the other's jaw between her thumb and middle fingers. "Don't you _ever do that again_!" Alex seethed, her eyes blazing in anger that Macy had never witnessed nor thought the smaller woman was even capable of. "I love you, Macy Vaughn, but if you ever pull something like that again, I swear on your mother's grave that I will fucking end you. We talk over our problems like humans in this house. Are we understood?" She yelled, red-faced and skin prickly with thorns and barbs. "Answer me!" The telekinetic witch nodded anxiously before releasing a choked sob and Alex scrambled to throw her arms around the other. "I almost fucking lost you," she whispered, smoothing a hand over her back in slow circles. 

Macy had held her tighter than she ever had, scared beyond belied, but glad that someone, anyone, had managed to contain her before any real damage had been done. A second later, Mel, Maggie and Harry had joined their embrace. The whitelighter could feel their forms all trembling, adrenaline still coursing high through their veins like a burning fire. "I have to move on. Without this power," Macy conceded.

It had taken the sisters but mere minutes to separate the power of the Source from Macy and scatter it across the Earth and for a relative normalcy to be achieved. Harry stood in front of the full length mirror in his bedroom, doing up the buttons of shirt in preparation for Galvin's memorial. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Alex fidgeting with the black knee-length dress she had donned for the occasion. Though everything seemed OK, they had not had a decent conversation since all of this had happened, and Harry worried that the floramancer would realize that she was insane for even attempting to get involved with him. Their eyes locked in the mirror and Alex smiled at him, as if she knew what was going on in his head. With an absent nod, she marched over to him, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder to turn him around. Her fingers nimbly did up the last of his buttons before turning up the collar of his shirt and grabbing the black tie hanging off the side of the mirror. Harry watched closely as she looped the tie around his neck and nimbly twisted the two sides into a double Windsor knot before turning his collar back down. 

"I-I'm sorry, Harry," Alex said in a small voice. 

"What?"

"I was upset and I shouldn't have yelled at you or said that you didn't know how to be a good whitelighter," she explained, looking down at her shoes. "It's just that sometimes I get hung up on… well, your antiquated sense of morality and… I-I don't know." She sighed. "I don't know if it would have changed anything if you had just been more willing to hear Macy out rather than try to sit her down for a lecture, but… I know how it feels to be told that you're inherently wrong or not meant to exist, and the lengths you go to just to prove everyone otherwise."

"It wasn't my intention to make _either_ of you to feel… I didn't know what to do, Alex," he replied, his voice low, as if a louder tone would break her. 

"She's coping through a lot and you have to let her know that she's not some sort of freak. And, yeah, it'll take you unlearning everything the Elders told you. These are uncharted waters and you need to be ready for anything," she finished, glancing briefly up at him and offering a weak smile. 

"I know. I failed at my duty, yesterday," he admitted with a nod, "but I am going to do better. I swear." His eyes were locked on her fidgeting form, a dull ache reverberating in his chest. "I love you, Alex," he whispered, raising his hand to cup her cheek, his digits momentarily drifting to the phantom scar that had taken her eye in their last reality. "I'm not sure what I would've done without you. I'd still be reality-hopping." He chuckled. "Actually, no. I'd be dead because I wouldn't have my whitelighter powers."

"I'll always have your back, Greenwood," she replied, smiling. "Anything to keep your head out of your ass." The comment earned a snort from the whitelighter. "I love you, too."

"I thought you were going to break up with me over this," he admitted, looking sheepish. 

Alex sighed, leaning forward into him, her eyes upward. "Not today. You're still mine to torture." He grinned widely and leaned down to peck her on the lips. "Come, we're going to be late."

They walked back from the memorial at a leisurely pace, chit-chatting about unimportant matters. When they reached the house, the pixie they had rescued was waiting for them, flinging her arms around the sisters with a giggle. With a yelp, Alex had ducked behind Harry as the masses of creatures descended the stairs to meet the Charmed Ones, muttering something about protection wards needing to be rest. The whitelighter squeezed her hand in reassurance, noticing no ill will from the beings meeting them with wide smiles, but stepped in front of her, in a rather defensive stance, nonetheless. 

"Well, we need to know who'll maintain the order now. You three are the top choice," the satyr explained with an easy smile. "New agreements will need to be drawn and so we decided to bring the representatives to you, rather than have you hunt us down, so to speak."

"We can definitely handle this," Maggie replied with a smile, following the satyr, and his bottle of wine, into the house. 

"Alejandra," a voice called, causing the floramancer to peak out from behind the whitelighter who seemed to have his eyes glued to the source of the sound. Her green eyes fell onto an older copper-skinned woman with long black hair, peppered with gray and an easy smile that lit her loving, dark brown eyes. Beside him, Alex's breath hitched at the sight, her face cycling through several emotions, as if her mind was trying to reconcile who she was seeing and her current reality.

"Tata?" The older woman nodded, her lip quivering at the sight of her several times great granddaughter standing in the flesh. Alex moved almost reticently, her hand still clinging to Harry's as she marched towards the woman before all her doubts had dissolved and she had all but launched herself into the older woman's arms. Seeing them side by side, Harry couldn't help but draw the similarities between their features as he stood as an awkward witness to the encounter. Surely, he should give them some time alone. However, the sound of Alex giggling brought him back to the present. Yúkahu was whispering in quick Spanish into her ear as she observed Harry with an impish glow. Yes, definitely similar. "Yeah, he's real white, but what can you do?"

"I feel like I should take offense, but I'm not entirely sure why," he defended, carefully. 

"He has such a beautiful accent," the woman quipped, and Harry couldn't help but be fond of the musicality of her own accent. "He's cute, too."

Alex shrugged. "Meh, he's alright."

"How about you gossip about me _inside_ the house?" Harry said, leaving little in terms of wiggle room, and gesturing towards the door with a tight-lipped smile. He leaned close to Alex's ear as they marched up the steps, trying to ignore the flowery smell that accompanied her and threatened to sway his sharp tongue. "Just alright?" The floramancer smiled wickedly over her shoulder, tossing in a wink for good measure. "You'll pay for that later."


	32. Treaty talks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love a soft, shiny boy.

_LATER THAT AFTERNOON_

Surely, there was a special place in Hell for someone like him. In all honesty, he didn't know what had possessed him to express himself in that manner, but when he felt her gaze, eyes like fire on his skin, he was all but sure that he had sealed his fate in the fiery abyss. 

" _What_ did you say?" Alex's tone left little room to argue that perhaps she didn't want him to repeat himself, but was simply raising the hypothetical in disbelief. Harry never claimed to be clever, though. 

"I said that I agree with your great grandmother and… _maybe_ … you _should_ be the floramancer representative." He swore his voice had never sounded as meek and uncertain as it did in that moment.

Alex tore her gaze from his, instantly, and he felt like the invisible force that had maintained him pinned to the spot had dissipated and allowed his form to slump while releasing a breath. The young romancer looked around the table, at the faces of the Charmed Ones, who were pointedly looking elsewhere, though they also agreed with the suggestion, before turning to her ancestor. "No. Absolutely not. Are you crazy?" She rushed, her tanned cheeks turning pink. "I know next to nothing about that world and, I don't know if you've noticed, I can _barely_ take care of myself." Harry snorted, almost in reflex, which he covered with a cough when her darkened stare pierced him, once again. "Tell them!" 

A pleading expression had fallen onto Maggie, who made the mistake of making eye contact, if even for a second. "You don't like authority figures… or unfair treatment, skewed public perception, and bullies. You'd actually-"

"Don't say it!"

"-be great at it," the empath finished, shrugging. 

"Ale," the whitelighter began, feeling guilty for using the term of endearment in an attempt to compel her, "There is so much knowledge that you are able to pass along and you can do it in a way that's accessible to other creatures. That's what makes you a great professor. Who better to show the kindness and peace-loving spirit of your people, than you?"

The young plant witch gaped, struggling to find the right words to express herself without resorting to punching him in the face, it seemed. "My people were culled and persecuted since the dawn of the council. Floramancers could have destroyed every other creature with nothing more than a flick of their wrist and, instead, they fled to the mountains to live in peace because they knew you wouldn't follow. Literally _any_ floramancer is apt for the job. Just… not me." 

Child and grandmother began quietly arguing among themselves in taíno, a language that Alex knew, but could not fathom how she knew it. He supposed it was like Macy reading the language of hell, something ingrained in their DNA. The older woman was calm, composed, almost playful, even, but with every passing second he could see Alex getting more and more frustrated. "Tei toca, Alejandra."

The woman tugged at her short curls, groaning in exasperation. "I thought the end of this whole goddamn war meant that I could finally make decisions for myself and not because it was required of me!" She said, her tone raised just a few decibels too loud to be called polite. For a moment, she looked like she was debating between apologizing or standing her ground before she decided to do neither, and skulked out of the kitchen and towards the backyard. 

Harry stared after her, watching the flowy material of her dress skirt swish after her. "Mel, how much money would it take for you to go talk-"

"More money than you have, Greenwood," she cut in, before the whitelighter had managed to get the whole query out. Hanging his head, he sighed, before following the path of muttered curses and fallen leaves that would lead him to an irate Alex. 

The sun was blazing overhead in the early arrival of summer, forcing the man to remove charcoal suit jacket, hooking his finger under the collar and tossing it over his shoulder. _Good Lord, this woman is going to kill me,_ he thought, as he watched her swing back and forth under the old oak tree, facing away from him. A minute ago, the tree did not have a swing, but the bunch of braided, woody vines she was sat upon looked like they had been there for the better part of a century. In her place, looking small and dainty (if a little dark in her black dress) and perfectly in sync with her surroundings, he supposed she looked a little like a wood nymph. "No," she whispered firmly, following the sound of his feet crunching on some dry leaves. She hadn't bothered to turn around. 

Hanging his jacket on the jagged piece of an old branch knot, he steadied the swing with both hands, gripping just over where hers rested, before winding those same hands around her waist. He briefly press his lips to the lavender bough bared on her back and then nudged her head to one side with his own and deposited a kiss on the crook of her neck before resting his chin on her shoulder. From their position, Harry couldn't help but absorb every little high-strung emotion coursing through her veins. It was anxiety, fear, confusion, and a steadfast hurt that ached him the most- he couldn't even imagine how it made _her_ feel. 

Her whole body shuddered with a breath, her eyes straight on the wooded horizon, as if glued there. "You can't convince me to do something because you hug me, Harry." He remained silent, deciding he would rather concentrate his efforts on soothing her negative emotions with some affection than attempting an argument. Sometimes, and he would freely admit it wasn't very often, he knew how to pick his battles. Showing Alex that there was love and friendship and support to be had in this world was more important than why her being on the new council was the _only_ smart choice. The floramancer sniffled, her hands gripping vine so hard her knuckles had turned white with effort. "I'm serious. This… no." He responded by pressing a lingering kiss to her temple, brown eyes squeezing shut as if the action required the utmost concentration. Slowly, the tension in her shoulders uncoiled, and her presence didn't feel like fire, anymore, but rather reluctant acquiescence. "This isn't fair."

Harry cleared his throat from the knot that had formed there as he distractedly ran his fingers over her covered midriff. "You told me this morning you'd have my back, if only to keep head out of my ass," he began, his voice soft against her ear as he breathed in vanilla from her shampoo and the ever-present scent of lavender that permeated her whole being. "Sometimes, you need a hug to keep you from jumping off the ledge; give you time to think."

"It's still not fair."

"I think it was Heidegger who said that we are burdened by glorious purpose," he riposted. 

Alex sighed. "Heidegger was a Nazi, and that was Loki in _The Avengers_ ," she bit back, rolling her eyes. "Pretentious sod."

He chuckled, not missing a beat. "Well, he was burdened with glorious purpose. He made a whole franchise possible."

"Well, I'm not part of the Marvel cinematic universe."

"No, you're much more DC, my Poison Ivy," he contested, and the witch finally turned her head to look at him. 

"Who are you and where's my boyfriend? I'd like to avoid him, right now, if possible," she queried, a tiny shimmer of mirth sparkling in her eyes. 

"Believe it or not," he began, unwinding himself from her form, much to her dismay. "I actually listen when you talk." He had gone around the swing until they were face to face, holding onto the vines to leverage himself, the whole thing swaying slightly as he leaned just a few inches from her face. "Even when it's about silly comics." That pulled a small smile from the woman, who tilted her head up towards him and placed a quick, chaste kiss on his lips. "I'm not going to stand here and tell you why you should take up that offer."

"I already know what you'd say," she said, smirking. "Doll, I know that this isn't what you had in mind when you said you wanted to do more outreach, but you can stop a whole new generation of floramancers from going through what you did," she added, in a perfect imitation of his accent, before she rolled her eyes. 

Harry laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners before the smile had even spread on his face. "I sound rather clever and dashing."

" _Alex, you can do better than that_ could have been my senior quote."

He captured her chin with his left hand, the swing wobbling gently as that limb released the tensed cords. "Except no one in that house thinks you aren't as glorious and capable as humanly possible. Don't you understand?" He swept his thumb over her cheekbone, her eyes falling shut as she put more pressure onto his open palm. "You are living proof that peace between the peoples and a little kindness creates great things. _You_ are a great thing." His voice wavered and he was grateful her eyes had closed so that she could at least not watch him start to crumble as the stress and shock of these last few weeks hit him like a bus. 

Though her eyes were still closed, she frowned at the hitch in his breathing as he battled back tears. "Crap. O-Ok, I'll do it, just…"

"No, let me say this," he demanded, firmly, blinking away the traitorous droplets accumulating in his eyes. "I always tend to say too little, entirely too late because… I made a life with inaccessible people who weren't likely to break my heart if only because they didn't care to ever see it. Everyone so cynical and cold until I was the same. I could never be _half_ the human you are." Harry watched as she fidgeted in her place, highly uncomfortable with the compliments, despite their relationship. "You wept for people who meant to kill you; risked your life for friends. You love _me_ despite the fucking twat I've been to you in this, and every other, reality. You are great and _terrifying_ and I am so goddamn in love with you in every way possible and… and I don't know what to do with that ninety percent of the time." 

Harry struggled to fill his lungs against the threat of escaping sobs, so he grit his teeth and sucked in a whistling breath to tide him over until he could function like a normal being once more. It was everything. He could feel _everything_ ; every scar and bad memory, laugh, broken heart and all in between, loud and ornery and begging for attention like the night she was coming into her powers. Except he didn't feel like his head was going to explode, but rather that his chest would cave in from the burden of all these feelings sitting on it. 

Cool fingers brushed his cheeks, wiping away the salty tracks that marred them. "It's OK, Pinocchio. I know you're a real boy," Alex whispered, before his head had fallen to hang away from her patient gaze and forced her hands to retreat. She followed his arm to the hand still on her cheek, taking it in both of hers and kissing the palm before smoothing her own over his forearm. "You gotta calm down. They're going to think I was mean to you," she offered in jest, but only succeeded and breaking him down. With a gasp he lowered himself to his knees, crying pitifully with his head in her lap, filling her skirt with tears. "Oh, shit," she muttered in surprise. "Alright, babe. I have you," she whispered, running her fingers through the dark locks, smoothing them down, gently scratching at his scalp. 

"Tata said something was wro-oh," Maggie stopped, mid-sentence, pouting at the scene before her, trying to decide if this was the time or not for an empath to intervene. "When Tata said someone was crying, she didn't specify who, or the tree didn't, however that works," she explained, dawdling a little longer. "Is he gonna be OK, or…?"

"It's been a long week, Mags."

"Tell me about it," the empath sighed back. "This is good for him. He'll feel better when he's done." Without waiting for a response, she turned away back into the house, leaving the couple to their little bubble. 

__

Harry paced the living room of his condo, looking significantly better than he had earlier. There was a glow about him, a weight being lifted from his shoulders that made him stand taller, look happier. The fact that he was wrapped in his favorite cardigan also helped, but he was pretty sure it had been the crying that did it. "I'm not entirely attached to any of it, if I'm honest," he said, shrugging as he looked at the furniture. 

"You've kept it for sixty years, Har. You have to have _some_ kind of attachment to it," Alex argued, rolling her eyes as she rubbed Lemongrass' belly and reaped the result of a particularly violent purr. Her heather gray sweatpants and t-shirt were covered in fine ebony fur, and only getting worse, as the cat rubbed his body against hers with a delighted expression.

"Because I hate shopping, not because I bought it during the recession." His smirk was not lost on the floramancer. 

"Would you rather I bring all of my IKEA furniture over?" There was a challenge in her voice.

He scoffed. "Gods, no. Not because it's from IKEA, mind you, but because it's all mismatched in appalling colors."

"Hence, why I suggested we just keep your furniture. At this point, I have half a mind of just burning my place to the ground rather than packing it up. Why am _I_ moving, again?"

"I own the condo and you rent your flat. My place is bigger, closer to the school, newer-"

" _Got it_ , Greenwood," she grumbled. "Do whatever you want with the place and the furniture _but_ I get to bring _all_ my plants," she offered, narrowing her gaze on the apprehensive whitelighter. Lemongrass felt the atmosphere tense and hopped lightly off of her lap to assume a perch on top of the bookcase.

"Alex, do we really need giant trees in our bedroom?" His tone led to believe that he did not think so. 

Instead of answering, she counter-argued. "Do you need seventeen ties in the exact same shade of blue?"

"I _used_ all of them."

"So do I. Arguably, in a more useful capacity than your lovely cravats," she finished, crossing her arms and sticking her chin out defiantly. "I mean, I need trees to serve my duties on the council and all."

Harry stared at Alex for a long moment before breathing out a reluctant, "Deal."

"Excellent." Alex grinned brightly at him, making his heart stutter at the picture. "Now, about closet space…" _Oh, she is going to kill me_ …


	33. Shore leave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter(s?) will be the most non-canon I've written so far. Because I want out-there fluffiness. And they deserve it.

It was not the morning sun on his face that woke Harry Greenwood that morning, but the sounds of a female singing. As was his instinct, he reached out to the right side of the bed, hoping to come closer to a pleasantly warm body burrowed into the sheets, but coming up uncharacteristically empty. He frowned, eyes still tightly shut against the impending dawn, annoyed that he was in an empty bed, but more annoyed that he had become one of those people who could not wake up happily if their other half was not in bed with them. Surely he had learned how to be an auto sufficient human in all his time on Earth. Why was he being such a angsty, mortal sap at this point of his existence? How had his steadfast independence crumbled with just a few days of Alex unofficially calling his address her own? _Because you're in love and not actually just messing around with a witch,_ came the response from a snarky voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Alex. He chuckled, drowsily. He would never assume his voice of reason to sound like _Alex_.

_Quisiera ser para ti, una oración que rezaras en tus noches de desesperación_ *

The singing caught his attention, once more. It was a slow, ballad-like tune that twisted into his mind and made him think it was magic if only for the trance it sent him into. He realized all too soon it wasn't a spell, but an old song that he had heard Alex humming under her breath on more than one occasion. It was in Spanish, a language he was still dismal in, despite the fact that it was his lover's first language. In his defense, Alex spoke very fast and he felt like a failure every time he asked her to slow down or repeat herself. She was glad to do it, and even encouraged him to do so, but the second he was faced with the fourteen verbal tenses he knew he was doomed. Hearing her speak, however, was always a treat (when it wasn't angrily cussing him out for being an idiot).

Dragging his form out of bed, he padded quietly out of the bedroom, enjoying how the music became louder and louder as he approached. Harry scratched at an itch at his side, ignoring the fact that he probably looked comically messy and bed-tossed on his way to the study. He assumed that the witch had woken up earlier and was eager to put herself to use in some way, even though Harry insisted that she didn't have to do anything around the condo. What he didn't expect however, was to find her swaying as she sang to herself, his thick blue dressing gown, open and hanging off her left shoulder, being the only stitch of clothing clinging onto her body, if the reflection in the old Victorian mirror was anything to go by. 

_Y hacer de tu poema y mi canción una extraña rapsodia de amor..._ *

The Brit could not deny that he had a knack for falling for beautiful women. However, where Charity had been tall, lithe and dainty, Alex was small, wiry, and strong. There were muscles rippling under her skin that he wasn't aware even existed, bred from years walking in forests, climbing trees, and working outside. Maggie affectionately called her _short stack_ because she was tiny, but had hips that protruded sharply against her thinner waist and modest chest. Ridiculous amount of curves that were usually hidden under layers of jumpers and hoodies. The occasional crop top showed some of her bare mid-riff, but never more than a few inches as to hide her scars. Clothes were very much a high priority for her, usually, which was why he was so surprised to see her traipsing around in just a dressing gown with a song in her heart. 

"A picture would last you longer, Greenwood," she commented, stopping her singing to glance at him over her shoulder. 

"A picture wouldn't sound as pretty, though," he retorted, leaning against the doorframe with folded arms, not bothering to cover up the fact that he had been ogling her appreciatively. He would berate himself for being such a lazy stereotype of a human male later but for now he was happy to sneak glances from the mirror as she watered the plants. Her vegetable friends had more than likely informed her, but she made no move to cover herself up. "You left me alone in bed."

"LG was scratching at the door and then I just couldn't go back to sleep," she admitted, putting down the watering can and turning towards him to close the distance between them. "And you didn't wake up when I took my shower, so I guess you needed the rest." He noticed her curls were still damp and weighed down to which he reached up and twined a curl around his index finger. 

He smirked, playfully pinching her bare side. "And then you lost your clothes?"

"No, that was a conscious choice." With a raised eyebrow, the whitelighter bent to kiss her. "I was planning on seducing the neighbor," she added sardonically, just as he was about to connect their lips. 

"Remind me, again, why did I ask you to move in?" He asked gruffly, retreating, only to have her pull at his navy t-shirt. 

"Kidding. I was going to go wake you, but you beat me to it," she whispered, brushing her lips against him, extracting a sigh from his chest. 

"Is that so? Why? I don't think it's my birthday, yet." His voice had dropped to a low grumble that sent shivers down her spine. 

Alex shrugged. "No reason. Just a lazy Sunday." Her lips trailed down his neck, nipping and licking until he growled pulling her closer to him by tugging at her hips. "And because I just love everything about you and you drive me crazy."

"I was on board by _no reason_ , love." He sighed, before claiming her mouth once again, walking her backwards until her back hit the wall. With a quick tug he pulled the dressing gown down, letting the fabric pool at her feet. Her hands sneaked under his shirt, splaying over the heated skin and tugging the garment up until it joined the dressing gown on the floor. His own hands trailed down her body, leaving no swatch of skin untouched under his dexterous fingers, leaving her momentary trance before his teeth had sunk into her neck. With renewed effort, her hands fumbled with the waist of his pajama bottoms and his boxers, causing the whitelighter to chuckle. "I'm not going anywhere. Relax."

"You've been called away the last five times we've -"

"They can wait," he whispered, kissing her deeply. The overwhelming sense of urgency that filled him was not entirely his own. Harry was only just getting used to feeling Alex's emotions again, but now that her powers had been unbound, there was little he could do to keep from swooning whenever a particularly hard wave of her emotions hit him. At the very least, her inner monologue had not returned, as of yet. He assumed he was going to need strength of will to deal with that, once more. Emerald eyes regarded him curiously; apparently he had spent more than he thought staring straight at her. Shaking the cobwebs from his head, he headed off the unspoken questions in her gaze with a kiss, bending slightly at the knees to pick her up. 

The lack of air burned his lungs, as they lay on the carpeted floor, side-by-side, panting heavily. Well, he was panting heavily; Alex's breath had quickened, but she was in much better shape than he could ever hope to be. Harry glanced sideways, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards at the sight of her flushed complexion and the occasional twitch and tremor that her overstimulated nerves caused. The fingers of his right hand brushed against her left, reflexively twining them together. He wanted to laugh aloud -- he never used to be such a physically needy person, but there was something about her touch that soothed his soul. 

"Tell me, does hiding in the study truly help shield you from your responsibilities? Because I wouldn't oppose a vacation." He grinned at the fact that the question made her smirk, despite her best efforts to look annoyed. "You'll have to broker the floramancers' terms for peace whether you want to or not."

"We were having such a pleasant morning, Har. Why would you remind me of work?" She groaned, tossing the arm not currently attached to his across her eyes. "Why can't Tata do it?"

He blinked heavily. There was a gentle buzzing inside his skull lulling him into calm. "Because she is a thousand years old and the only contact she's had with magical authority is a killing squad?" There wasn't a response, but he could practically hear Alex ruminating on the pros and cons of the position, again. "What do you say we take a day trip?"

"I thought we were _entirely too busy to do anything other than settle the terms of peace_ for the next few weeks?" Her tone had the littlest bit of edge to it and it made him smirk. Perhaps, he had been a little too _Type A_ about the whole restructure of the magical accords; both the Charmed Ones and Alex had been less than amused. 

The whitelighter sighed, releasing her hand so he could turn on his side, head propped on his elbow. His fingers peeled the cover over her eyes, turning her gentle gaze onto his serenely smiling face. "Why don't you take me home?"

The fire that sparked in her stare could have lit up the city on a particularly starless night. "R-really?" He nodded twice, silently. "L-like right now?" He nodded again. There was a moment of silence before the woman shot up, tackling Harry back onto the floor, leaving him winded on his back as Alex peppered his face with kisses. It stopped as quickly as it had begun, as Alex jumped onto her feet and yelled something about taking a shower and getting dressed before disappearing into the hallway. Harry let a chuckle escape him, taking his time getting up from the floor and following her into the bedroom.

Harry sat on the bed, dressed in light-colored trousers and a white button-up Oxford rolled up to the elbows, watching the floramancer race back and forth in the bedroom, tossing random objects into her old, battered rucksack. "Darling, is this all completely nec--?" He was cut off by an icy glare as she pointedly dropped a handful of glass vials into the cloth bag. Twenty minutes later, her movements had stilled and she stood before him in her denim shorts, yellow t-shirt and field boots, her bag dangling from her right hand. "Are you ready, love?" She nodded enthusiastically, anxiously shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Suppressing a loving grin, he got to his feet, relieving her of her rucksack and tossing it over his shoulder and offering his hand. "Let's go, then." The woman started at his upturned palm for a beat longer than usual, a testament to the nerves hiding under her excitement, before clasping it tightly. 

They disappeared from the room with a snap of his fingers.


	34. Unforseen repercussions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean... yeah...

Heat slapped Harry in the face the second they materialized on the other end. It made his shoulders slump as it sapped his energy and caused the unmistakable trickle of sweat down his back. Just the sensation of sun baking his skin was enough to know they had hit their mark, but it was the brightly colored creole-style house that confirmed it. The hand that had been loosely holding onto his own tightened, forcing his attention to be redirected towards Alex. 

The floramancer's eyes were glued onto the ancestral home, unblinking and awe-struck, as if in disbelief that she was actually there. In that moment in time, she wasn't a thirty-three year old with a degree and career aspirations, but the same four year old who often sat on the solid mahogany workbench under the mango tree, gnawing on sugarcane with her grandfather. Her anxious fidgeting had not stopped, if anything, the movement had increased ten-fold. However, before Harry could assure her that there was nothing to be afraid of, a figure emerged from the house, letting the screen door that led to the porch slam behind them. 

"Ay! Ágata, no puede ser!" The older gentleman just leaving the house dropped the bucket and brush he was carrying to make a sign of the cross, looking like he had seen a ghost. Alex looked no different, if he was honest. Her eyes narrowed slightly and her head tilted to the side _just so_ , causing the man to look between Harry and Alex before a torrent of tears glistened in his eyes. "Me la traiste de vuelta. Yo sabía que tu me ibas a traer a la Casi de vuelta!" 

Somewhere between his enthusiastic (albeit, tearful) smiling and his apparent happiness at their arrival, Alex had abandoned her grip on her lover's hand and went, face first, to bury herself in the other's chest. Harry was still awfully confused, but he assumed that there was nothing inherently wrong with the situation before stepping back to allow them time to catch up.

Back when it was Alex's birthday and he had made his way back to the Figueroa's home, he had met the neighbor who so lovingly took care of the abandoned house. Ramón had been the Figueroa's neighbors since before WWII, and was definitely one of the people in town privy to the fact that the family was _different_. When pressed by Harry, the man simply shrugged his shoulder, ruffling his gray hair and had announced in his heavily accented English, "You already know. So why you ask me?" The crooked grin that accompanied the statement had been enough to endear Harry to Ramón. Right now, having delivered his favorite little girl back to him for a visit, he dared to say the feeling was mutual. 

Readjusting the bag strap on his shoulder, Harry took stock of his surroundings. The house sat on several acres of land, with only one of them cleared enough for the small settlement to be built. The house wasn't large. Inside it housed three bedrooms and two bathrooms, all meticulously organized and filled with antique Spanish-style furniture and a handful of record players. Behind the house sat a plot with a garden filled with every plant and herb imaginable, regardless of whether it grew well in the tropics or not. Flanking the structure were several fruit trees, branches heavy with colorful prizes for anyone brave enough to scale the beast to collect it. 

The sound of Alex giggling made Harry turn back to the house and the noise, in turn, reminded her that she had brought company on this expedition. A smile seemed to be permanently perched onto her face at what Ramón was saying. A moment later, he could hear her voice in his head, translating on the fly so he wasn't left out of the conversation. Harry frowned. Had he been able to hear her thoughts all this while? Had she been purposefully holding back, knowing that he had a lot on his plate? The wicked glimmer in her eye said _Yes_. 

"If anyone in the neighborhood had seen you, they would be swearing up and down that you were your grandmother!" The older man, insisted, a toothy grin firmly in place. "For a moment I thought my ticket was up. Ágata came to get me!"

"No, just me Don Monín. You're not allowed to die until you're at least a thousand," Alex insisted, nudging him in the ribs. The man looked back at her as if she was a newborn child and he was getting to hold her for the first time, all over again. 

Ramón shook himself out of the trance, clapping Harry on the shoulder in a jovial manner. "Come inside. I just grabbed some passion fruit from the back and made passionade." Without waiting for a response, he turned into the house, putting the discarded bucket onto one of the shelves on the attached garage, and heading for the door. 

Alex looked like… well, what he wished she looked like every second of every day she was with him. There was a light burning inside her that he was not sure he had ever seen before. It was as if something had suddenly clicked within her and brought back some morsel of what was good about her childhood back. Her energy was renewed and every single doubt and hesitation that had been on her mind before their arrival was gone. Grinning, her hand reached out for his, and he was only too happy to oblige, as she dragged him through the threshold of the terracotta colored gates and through the door. 

The inside of the home was as colorful as the outside. Though slightly faded by time and constant sun exposure, the walls were painted in shades of green and yellow several times lighter than on the outside of the house. It made the whole place look like it was bathed in sunshine, even in the places were it fell into shadows. The kitchen was open and airy, and the living room just beyond was filled to the brim with pictures of the family and paintings of native wildlife. On the walls, there was also the occasional child drawing, undoubtably Alex's. It all felt well-loved, both by the family and the friends that maintained it in working order. 

"Do you like it sweet or tangy… sour… tart?" The man's mouth had stopped moving far before his question had. Evidently, Alex had been distracted when he asked, rifling through a basketful of guavas and sticking the ripest in her mouth, at once. Harry would've teased her about not finding the correct words, but considering the fact that she had to translate because he was _hopeless_ at conversational Spanish, he decided to abstain. "I already know you like it sour, Casi."

"He'll have _all_ the sugar," Alex cut in. His sweet tooth really was legendary, and she knew it. Her teasing smile turned into a frown. "Aren't you having any?"

Ramón smiled. "I can't. My grandson has a recital and if I'm not there…" There was another giggle from Alex. He handed them both a glass of freshly made juice before clasping Alex's chin in his hand. "I want you back here more often. You're not a grown-up who can just do what they want, OK?"

"I swear I will be here more," she accepted. "I'm going to be doing some work with the _others_ , like Abuela did. So, I'll be home more often. I promise."

"I always knew you were going to be great. My little baby is home," he cooed, pinching her cheeks affectionately before kissing her forehead, her whole face burning red. His gentle brown eyes turned onto Harry. "You better come around, too. I want to keep an eye on you, gringuito."

"Ave María, Monín. Déjalo quieto," she retorted, translation faltering whilst she stared, wide-eyed, looking like a teenager with her particularly embarrassing parents. 

"Que se dedique al buen vivir, porque si no el cocotazo que se va a llevar va a ser…"

Some of those words were familiar. Harry didn't know if it was better to be offended that he had been thought an American or concerned that a potential threat was delivered on his person… or, perhaps, worried at the fact that he knew what a potential thread sounded like in Spanish. He opted for the hidden option of avoiding all interaction by sipping on his drink. The cool liquid chilled him the entire way down, and with a contented sigh, he tucked in, once more.

Alex rolled her eyes, shooing the laughing man out the door. "Vete antes de que Clarita decida que va a cambiar las cerraduras. Adiós. Te quiero." The woman closed the door behind him and turned to Harry with burning cheeks. "Sorry about that. I don't think I'll ever be older than twelve in his eyes."

"Well, for a hot minute you were the spirit of your grandmother, so I think that's some sort of progress." A wicked thought popped into his head immediately. "Casi? Is that the middle name I'm never allowed to ask about?"

"No," she replied, carefully. "It's a nickname… _based on the middle name you're not allowed to ask about_ ," she rushed through, before filling her mouth with passion fruit and let out a delighted moan. "Oh, I've missed you so much," she whispered at the tall, frosty glass and its contents. "You know how annoying it is to pay for subpar produce in the market when you grew up _here_? I swear, the first time I bought a mango, I wanted to break someone's neck," she grumbled, tossing back the remainder of the juice in one go. 

"I can't relate, but I'm sure I can understand the sentiment," he replied, with a chuckle. Finishing his own, he observed as his girlfriend's eyes flittered from detail to detail on the walls, as if taking a mental tally that every crack, crevice and memory was still present, even fifteen years later. It pulled at his heartstrings knowing that she had been run out of her home for so long, especially considering how bright and bubbly she seemed to be while under its roof. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel… a little strange. It's weird to be home and for it to be so quiet." Her fingers ran over the walls, taking some magical pulse beat beneath them and calling to her. "But, it's almost as if I can feel them… hear them. It's kind of bizarre." 

Harry raised a single eyebrow at her, noting that her slender digits were tapping a rhythm onto the wall, like a drum beat. "Alex?"

"Come get me, Ale," she said under her breath, but the voice sounded unlike her usual honeyed tones. It was binaural- shrill and deep at the same time- and it made his blood run cold. When her wandering gaze turned to where he could notice it, he saw that her eyes had glazed over in a milky white. " _Come get me. Come get me. Come get me. COME GET ME._ "

"Love, are you still with me?" His hand rested onto her shoulder, only to be roughly pushed off with a hiss before she brushed past him towards the door, chanting all the while. 

After a moment of surprise, he followed, only to double back to grab the rucksack he had abandoned atop the kitchen counter. Perhaps she had packed something, _anything_ that might help the situation. Before he could even comb over the contents, Harry saw that Alex was already well on her way to disappearing into the wooded area behind the herb garden and had no other choice than to dart after her. She didn't acknowledge him when he called her name, only repeating the words _come get me_ louder and louder with every hurried step she took. In her wake, she left a thick cloud of lavender scent, marking her trail into the wooded abyss long after her eerily glowing form was gone. 

Harry cursed under his breath. His hurried walk had turned into a sprint, the sprint into a jog. _Shit, I am out of shape_ , he thought, for the second time that day as he hurried down a sharp incline. A moment later, he lost his footing, tumbling onto his left hip and sliding down the rest of the way. He sucked a sharp breath through his teeth, trying to ignoring the burning pain on his side from the fall and the one in his lungs from running in a godforsaken temperature that was nearer boiling than anything else. He had nearly lost sight of Alex again, who was dazedly weaving in and out of rows of trees. He pushed himself to run flat out through the forest, trying his best to avoid errant roots and boulders sticking out at odd angles. 

Mercifully, Alex had stopped dead in her tracks in the middle of a clearing. Three ancient, enormous trees created the space- three types of native oak with flowers of purple, yellow, and pink- and stood fifty feet tall, blocking the sun and creating a perfectly portioned rug of each color. " _Dig, Alex. Dig. Find me. I'm here. Find me. Dig now. Find me. Alex, find me._ " Though her voice had gone back into barely a whisper, the way her head snapped in the direction of every tree was both terrifying and worrying. She was definitely going to have a bad case of whiplash when she snapped out of it. _If she snapped out of it._

The rustle of underbrush snapped him out of his gloomy thoughts. Alex dove towards one of the trees; the one with yellow flowers. He knew the tree well, as he had collected a single brilliantly shaded flower to encase in viewing box several months before for her birthday. " _Dig. I'm here. Find me. Alex, find me._ " Her hands scooped away at the flowers, clawing at the roots and earth like a woman possessed which, he supposed, was a fair comparison. " _I'm here. Find me. Find me. Find me. Find me…_ " 

Her fingers had gone bloody stripping away at the rough bark and dirt in her way, but her pace had not faltered. The sight of blood had kickstarted his whitelighter instinct and he felt that angelic compulsion to heal his charge. His brain and his body, however, didn't seem to be in agreement. Harry seemed to be paralyzed, despite his innate desire to want to grab Alex and pull her away from the spot. His legs just didn’t seem to want to move- _couldn't_ move.

She had dug nearly up to her elbows before there was a solid thumping sound. Leaning in, she pulled at a bundle in earth, tugging a parcel wrapped in the rough sack cloth used to collect coffee beans, if the printing on the brown material was any indication. With wonderfully coordinated movements, Alex got to her feet and padded to the middle of the clearing. She raised the bundle into the single ray of sun that broke through the trees with incredible reverence. "You found me." Her voice was a breathless whisper, and her eyes had turned back to their emerald hue before she collapsed in a heap on the floor. 

"Alex-" The spell that had kept Harry glued to the spot was undone the second Alex dropped to the floor. For the briefest of moments, Harry wondered what had happened to the laissez-faire attitude he used to take when it came to injured charges. He had once left Fiona with a broken wrist to remind her that attempting dangerous and forbidden spells was not going to fly with him. When he had taken over whitelighter duties for the Charmed Ones, though, he had learned the true meaning of worry. The feeling was somehow tripled when accident prone, sailor-mouthed, act-before-thinking Alex came into his life. The arm that pulled Alex towards him was shaking, and so was the thumb brushing against her cheekbones to rouse her. " _Shit, shit, shit._ Alex, sweetheart. Talk to me." There was no response, not that he was expecting one. 

Back when he was a fledgling whitelighter, the Elders had taught him that if worse came to worse, to follow the ABC's. Are they alive? _Yes._ Are they breathing? _Yes, that too._ Are they conscious? _Most definitely not._ At least, there wasn't any reason for Alex to venture in the D's-- _delirious… deformed… dying… dead_. Leave it to the Elders to deliver a three-step system to determine whether or not you're fucked. 

He shook off the uncomfortable sensation of terror dripping down his spine, and instead concentrated on covering Alex with the warm, white glow of his healing power. Other than a resistance of her hands to taking the healing spell, she was physically fine and gripping onto her prize as tightly as possible. Harry chanced removing his hand from her face for just a moment so he could take a gander inside the rucksack. Vials, several defensive potions, collection flasks… absolutely nothing that might help her. _Why had she even packed all this junk?_

"No matter. I'll just take you…," he raised his gaze up to the forest surrounding them, "… _home_." A heavy sigh escaped him. "Well, fuck. Great time to have an awful sense of direction." Heaving her into his arms, bridal style, he stepped back into the forest, trying to decide a direction. A strange sensation tingled in the back of his skull, a pull that had laid dormant since his days of fragile mortality. "Might as well try," he muttered, rearranging Alex in his arms. "Sorry to be a bother, but would you mind…?" Before the words had trickled out of his mouth, the massive branches swayed gently, opening a makeshift path, the house visible in the distance like a bright, multicolored beacon. 

Harry paced around the pale, pastel purple bedroom, tossing nervous glances at the figure lying in bed between bouts of gnawing on his knuckles. Alex remained in peaceful slumber, save for the occasional twitch of her limbs when her dreams became more active. It had been _hours_ since they returned from the forest and she was still unconscious, though holding her treasure in a vice. "I should look in the Book of Shadows… find a spell… but I can't leave her here, alone. What would happen if she wakes up and I'm gone?"

"I'll pretend it's a party and drink all the rum?" Alex answered, her voice groggy but no longer ethereal. With a groan, she pushed herself up to a sitting position, shifting slightly when the bed dipped under Harry's weight. "You know, when I used to dream of having a boy in my bedroom, this wasn't quite what I had in mind."

"Oh, thank God." His lips had crashed into hers before he peppered the rest of her face and her hands with kisses. 

The woman hissed, glancing down to her injured hands with a pout. "I ruined my nail polish." 

The little creature of worry wreaking havoc within him settled at her attempt at commonplace humor. "I'm surprised you still have fingertips, if I'm totally honest. What the hell was that?"

"I found it," she riposted, as if the answer was obvious. She lifted the sack-covered lump into view.

"What is _it_?"

"The Book of Light," she said, undoing the thin rope holding the sack together and pulling out a handsome leather-bound tome with floral detailing etched into its surface. 

_Can this day make any less sense?_ "Book of Light?"

Alex chuckled, turning the book over to his hands and opening it to the first page. "Witches have their Book of Shadows and floramancers… have a rotten sense of humor."

"A spellbook? Your _family's_ spellbook?" He turned the page into an intricate family tree spanning back more generations that he cared to count. "You looked possessed? Are you sure it's safe?"

"It was just upset I left it under the dirt for a decade and a half." Her bloodied hands stroked the thick vellum pages, lovingly. "I heard it when my grandmother died, but I didn't want to be a witch, anymore. So, I left without looking for it." Alex let out a laugh before continuing, "Then again, she was well aware I was stubborn, and made sure that I _couldn't_ ignore it when I came back home…"

"And you would always come back home," he finished, for her, the corner of his mouth tilting upward. "I'd kill for that compelling spell. Maybe that way I'd finish my grading on time."

The joke and even keel of his tone was not enough to keep Alexandra from drawing his hands, the right one in particular, and noting the red and raw skin of his knuckles. "I didn't mean to worry you, Har. I suppose you didn't want to spend our day trip going out of your mind."

"I was fine."

A peel of laughter bubbled from her throat and Harry felt both elated and offended. "You barely ever even fidget and you look like you were a moment away from tearing your fingers off."

"Well, pardon me for not having nails to bite. And, even then, if someone looks at my hands they'll think-" he stopped himself, not really understanding why he was going in that particular direction with the argument. 

"They'll think you were fighting, and not anxious. Yeah, I know. My grandfather did the same thing." Alex rolled her eyes. "Fucked up by the war even when you can't remember it." Harry's brows knitted together, confused. "Turns out he served in the War, before becoming a whitelighter. Whenever he'd get anxious, he'd do the same thing and say that at the very least, he could pass it off as having knocked someone out. Because biting your nails in live combat often led to getting a bullet in the head."

"Charming visual."

"Doesn't make it any less true, Greenwood." Her hands smoothed over his and onto the book's cover. "Wait… what's that?" Alex had narrowed her eyes at the family tree, scooting closer to Harry to take a closer look. "I don't ever remember my grandmother saying she had siblings," she pointed at the branch where Ágata sat, noting the three other people at the same level. 

"Telepath. Wind-waker. Clairvoyant. Witches, all of them," he remarked about the two males and the female. 

"Not floramancers?"

"Look at the birthdates. They weren't born in spring," he pointed out, glossing over the fact that there was also a decease date beside all of their names. "Evidently, just combining lineages is not enough."

Alex groaned, slumping against Harry with a pronounced pout. "Temporal gene regulation? That's… sure. Why the fuck not?"

Harry's eyes followed down the page, systematically evaluating every generation all the way down to Alex. "We should go outside," he said, suddenly, closing the book cover. "You should teach me how to climb a tree. I think I saw some mangoes out back. Let's go." He had tossed the book aside and shuffled out of bed, his fingers circling Alex's wrist to tug her out of bed. 

There was an amused smirk pulling onto her lips as she reached for the book again. "Why are you being such a weirdo, Greenwood? Jeez. I was looking at stuff." Her eyes traveled down the genealogy, noting which relatives she looked most like or had weird or interesting powers. 

Harry watched with bated breath as she reached the bottom and found the reason why he had suddenly become flustered. He honestly didn't know what was the most shocking: that there was an additional name beside Alex's, a sibling she never knew, that his name was neatly etched onto the page in flowy script with a line connecting to hers, or the fact that there was a line emanating from their union denoting a child with a birthdate set in the future. A remarkably _near_ future.


	35. Covert ops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I woke up and thought "you know, I don't make my characters as miserable as I should" and then this came out. I'm a sucker for some emotional turmoil. It had been too much of sunshine and gumdrops until then.

"Alex, I- I don't-"

"I'm ten days late and this fucking book…" Alex had trailed off, her eyes falling to the floor. Harry felt, as he often did, that there was more going on here than he was privy to. "Just as well, I suppose. Lord knows I can barely take care of myself."

"I don't think that's quite how it works, Ale."

There was a dry chuckle, forced and unenthused. "I'm guessing you didn't read the whole thing before freaking out." Her eyes were still focused on the pale purple area rug just under Harry's feet. She did not care to pass the text back or to make any other movement than what was strictly necessary for survival. 

There was an uncomfortable tightening in his chest, a sign of something amiss. His fingers grasped for the hallowed pages and traced lightly to the bottom. Between Alex's full name and his own, the golden thread that hung declared a birthdate and the word _miscarriage_ in brackets. Despite his utter apprehension and panic at the discovery that he had somehow managed to land his lover with child, it was the feeling that followed that threatened to destroy him. He felt heavy and distraught, like he was falling apart- like he was dying again. 

A stubborn knot had formed in his throat, growing in tandem with the subtle sting of tears in his eyes. Clearing his throat in search of reprieve, he turned his warm gaze onto her closed off form. This situation was definitely not in the whitelighters' ABC's. His mind struggled to sort the information in his head, but yet, there was something niggling at the back of his mind. "You were going to wake me up this morning." He watched a lone tear trickle its way down her cheek before it was roughly brushed aside by her fingers. 

"I live with you, so it's not like I can avoid you until I figure out what to do. I thought it was time I gave you a head's up, just in case." The floramancer sniffled, laughing sardonically at herself when her gaze found his again. "I thought it was the end of the fucking world and that with all the shit… I wished it would just _go away_ ; make it a false alarm." Sucking in a breath, she composed herself, nodding decisively once. "I'm gonna wash myself off and we can go pick some fruit outside, OK?" 

She offered a weak smile, before stalking out towards the bathroom just across the hall. With the taps on, she scrubbed at her hands in a way that made him sure they ached like nothing else. There was quiet muttering going on under her breath as she scrubbed her already clean hands until the raw skin of her torn fingers bled. Harry was unsure of whether or not he was welcome in the room, anymore. The Women's Studies expert yelled at him to back away and let her deal with her emotions on her own terms. The sad sap that was ridiculously in love countered that he needed to fix this, just as loudly. Despite the trepidation that she would hex him into oblivion for the attempt, he decided to offer some small comfort. He stood behind her form, placing his chin on her shoulder as their gazes locked in the mirror. If only the arms twined around her waist could have removed the burden of her thoughts, he would be truly happy. 

"I'm fine, Har," she offered quietly, rinsing off her hands and letting the water wash away the tiny crimson droplets that had accumulated. 

"You are a shit liar, but we can talk about it whenever you feel like it." He pressed a kiss to her cheek. 

"Fine. I feel like a timebomb right now." Her eyes had fallen and there was something akin to shame radiating off of her in waves. Of all the feelings she could've chosen, culpability should not have been one of them.

Harry squeezed tighter, feeling her tense muscles shudder in the warmth. "Well, you feel like home to me." He offered a small smile. "Did you want to keep - _oh fuck, this is insane-_ do you want us to do something about it?"

Alex shook her head, leaning back against his form with a sigh. "Intervention, Harold Greenwood, is all sorts of dangerous and we're in enough shit, as it is."

There was a flash of pain in his expression that quickly dissipated for the sake of appearing level-headed. "I'm not good at seeing you upset, I suppose," he whispered. "Do you want to spend a couple of days here? I'm sure the girls can muddle through without us watching over their every step," he said and felt a little lighter when she nodded excitedly. "Let's take a break from the book, OK? There's no need for us to get worked up, at the moment." Another kiss dropped onto her cheek. "I'll grab some clothes and the menace and let the girls know we're alive. How about you sit outside? You'll feel better." Alex nodded, a shy little smile shining through. "I love you, doll." His hands trailed up and down her arms.

"I'm not going to break, Greenwood," she said with a chuckle. "I promise to still be in one piece when you get back." Harry made an unhappy noise at the back of his throat. "Te amo."

With a secretly pleased huff, he made a show of kissing her crown, holding her head in his hands and then mussing her hair much to her chagrin. He teleported before she could retaliate, arriving in the living room of their condo a moment later. Harry made quick work of meticulously packing a few changes of clothes and toiletries into a bag. When it came to the several bottles atop the vanity, however, he decided that shoving them all into the container was good enough solution. Lord knew he didn't have the patience or the know-how to correctly pick out the necessary toiletries (though he secretly thought they were all some sort of diluted moisturizer). 

"Lemongrass, kindly collect that infernal tinkling ball you like and come here, please," he called down the open door, perfectly aware that he sounded like a crazy person asking a cat to do chores. However, when the ebony tuft of fur leapt onto the bed beside the bag with a curious yip. "We're going somewhere. Don't fuss and don't move. I'll be right back." 

After a quick, albeit vague, word with the Charmed Ones and keeping a suitably wide berth from Maggie and her mind-reading penchant, he orbed back into the condo. Lemongrass had been halfway through rubbing his face on all the clean laundry neatly folded on the bed and made a spectacle of stretching and turning onto his back as the whitelighter shot him a disapproving look. "You _know_ that doesn't work on me, so why do you try?" The kitten purred before turning upright, once more before clambering onto the bag and suitably sitting down in preparation for the trip. 

Rolling his eyes, he grasped the strap on the duffel bag and threaded it over his shoulder. Despite his general demeanor, his hand wrapped around the kitten in a tight grasp for safe-keeping for which he was rewarded with a gentle purr. "You are to be on your best behavior… which is, of course, your worst, but believe me I will die a fiery death than admit I just said that. Savvy?" Momentarily, Harry thought the cat was somehow smirking at him before he orbed them back. 

Alex, Harry had come to discover, was a strange hybrid of house cat and house plant, always eager to seek out a rogue sunbeam. That is how Harry found her, stretched out on the grass, toasting in the afternoon sun. By his estimate, she had probably already tanned several shades, something he found insane, given that all he had managed to do in the sun, until now, was get a bad sunburn. He had released the fuzzy demon into the landscape, watching with an amused grin as the feline became a rabbit, bounding across the tall grasses and brush and landing, quite forcefully, on Alex's chest. 

_Oompf_

"LG, I think you cracked my sternum, bud," she whined, rubbing at her chest and pulling herself up to sit. Lemongrass yowled, rubbing his face into her chest and attempting to entice her to a chase, darting back and forth and striking her leg with a tufted paw. "Lemon _grass_ ," she whined and the cat snatched one of the woven bracelets off her wrist and made off with it. "Oh, Lord, help me I'm going to end his furry little life," she grumbled before getting to her feet after him. 

Harry watched through smilingly narrowed eyes as her legs chased the cat, always just half a step behind him. It was a moment before her annoyed expression turned into a laugh and she became more interested in the thrill of the chase. With a passive smirk, Harry sunk into the patch of grass she had just abandoned, Book of Light in hand and started leisurely leafing through the pages. It was a good twenty minutes later when Alex dropped beside him, panting heavily. 

He did a double take when she leaned against him and left a damp trail all down his side. "Why are you wet?"

"Lemongrass dropped my bracelet in the river."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "There's a river?"

"There's a whole microcosm in that backyard, Har," she replied in a sigh, just as Lemongrass padded softly and curled up in her lap, giving her hand a cursory lick. The cat was just as drenched and shivering in the cold, but seemingly content with having given her the run-around. "How about lunch? The kitchen is, for some reason, fully stocked."

"Sure, I can make us something," he said, somewhat distractedly, his brain working overtime on the book. 

Alex's right hand turned his chin, though it took his eyes a second to quickly scan the end of a sentence before turning towards her. "I know you're all British and repressed and this is your way of showing affection when I'm in emotional turmoil, but again, I'm not going to break. I'm pretty sure I can handle lunch."

A protest was born and died in his throat. Harry sighed, resting his forehead against hers, stealing a quick peck as he stared down the emerald barrel of the gun, so to speak. "What am I going to do with you?"

She snorted, pushing his hair back away from its perfectly groomed "If you figure it out, let me know. I seem to have lost the instructions manual." 

"As if you could be contained within an instructions manual. You'd probably malfunction out of spite." He sneaked another kiss. "Adorable, loveable spite." Harry smirked at her pronounced pout. 

"Babe?" He hummed in acknowledgement. "You've been exceedingly calm and it's kind of freaking me out." There was a flutter of guilt wracking his chest, and his eyes fell onto the grass below. "Except you knew. Of course you knew. Your whitelighter spidey senses were probably tingling."

Harry chuckled, sucking in a deep breath. "Actually… I synced your period tracker app to my mobile phone." As much as he wanted to laugh at her look of surprise, he didn't. "You can't tell me that you thought it was a coincidence that there were chocolate chip biscuits waiting for you at the perfect time; hot water bottles readily available."

"No, no. I can believe it," she said, drawing her brows in confusion. "I'm just trying to decide if that's cute or creepy."

"It's efficient," he defended. "There's no harm in having two people moni-"

"And yet, here I am, still pregnant," she cut in, smirking, but it died quickly on her lips. "Well, for the moment, at least." 

"We don't know-"

" _Harry_ , the alternative is-"

"Jesus, I _KNOW_ WHAT THE ALTERNATIVE IS!" He cursed himself at the sight of her aback expression. His tone was a lot harsher than he had hoped for it to be and even Lemongrass had hissed annoyedly at Harry, swatting an angry paw at his idle hand. "Sorry. I'm sorry. It's just… Alex, I'd go to the ends of the Earth for you and I find it mildly offensive that _this_ is where you think I'd draw the line." He had pulled back, turning his face to the canopy occupying the horizon under a blanket of azure. The day was beautiful and clear and it didn't improve the way he was feeling. "I don't know how else to tell you that I love you and I would love anything that came from you short of birthing the fucking Antichrist."

The roll of her eyes was almost painful to watch. "Er… why would I give birth to the-"

"Besides the _fucking_ point, Alejandra!"   
"Two f-bombs in consecutive sentences and full name. I am in trouble," she mumbled to herself. 

He growled, grinding his teeth together painfully. "Do you know how frustrating it is that you don't trust me?"

"Harry, that's absurd. I trust you with my life!" Her tone, ironically, was eerily similar to that of a parent scolding their child. 

"With your life, sure. With who you are behind closed doors, who you are as a person… I don't think you'd ever trust anyone with that. You certainly haven't trusted me."

"What do you want to hear? People don't exactly exhibit any sort of permanence in my life." Harry chuckled drily and shook his head, staring out ahead, eyes glued to a woodpecker knocking at an almond tree, but remained silent. "This isn't exactly easy for me to mull over, Greenwood."

"This is my whole point, Alex. You aren't alone in any of this. We. _We_ need to mull this over and come to a decision. I would have literally stopped half-way through trying to avert the Apocalypse to have this conversation." He sighed, his brow furrowing and right hand tapping on his thigh in a fidget. "Unless I'm just _that guy_ you sleep with and I just happened not to get the memo."

Her lips on his interrupted the sad train of thought. His grip on the book faltered, exchanged for that of her cheeks, leaving the tome to fall to the grass with a dull thud. It was a demanding kiss and he was pretty sure that the demand was _please shut the living fuck up_ , but also _if you have any sense you will not stop badgering me until I start talking_. For all of Alex's hemming and hawing that he was stereotypically British and repressed, she was actually astoundingly guarded when it came to her own feelings. 

Startled by the presence of something wet brushing against his skin, Harry pulled away from the kiss. His face contorted in concern at the trails running down either of her cheeks, which he brushed away with barely a swipe of his thumbs. Alex, small and folding into herself, was shaking like a leaf. Funnily enough, the greenery around them, as far as the eye could see was rattling, as well. 

"I never get options and I-I-I wanted you to have some," she said in a small voice. 

The desperation in her voice made his heart clench. His hands were shaking on her face, but he was unsure as to whether it was due to her reaction or his own. "I had options. I chose you," he said. "You and everything that comes with you. Even the bits you hide."

Alex's breath was coming out in choked sobs. "I _gasp_ just _gasp_ wanted _gasp_ to _gasp_ make _gasp_ lunch _gasp_ like _gasp_ a _gasp_ normal _gasp_ person." The usually lively greenery surrounding them began to curl and gnarl and move wildly like the trees in a horror film, each pulsing with every one of her sobs. Lemongrass took no time in deciding he was of better use inside the house and away from the trees.

"Sweetheart, breathe."

"Don't tell me to breathe! I am hormonal and _sad_!"

"Yes, and you have every right to be upset, but maybe tell the forest I am not trying to hurt you, doll." He carded his fingers through her hair. As if snapping out of a dream, Alex stared around the backyard, watching the trees slowly recede and undistort. "I'm not, am I? Hurting you?"

She shook her head in the negative, her lower lip quivering in threat of more tears. "I'm not broken or defenseless or…"

"I never said you were," he replied, solemnly. "I would _never_ say any of that." Harry pressed a kiss to her forehead. "You saw me at my weakest, at my worst and you never treated me as less than. I have nothing but respect and admiration and godforsaken awe for you. You don't need me; I know you don't, but-"

"Of course I need you, you fool. You're the only reason I haven't gone off the deep end, yet. I just…" She sighed, more tears wetting her face. "I just never know where to start." Her head tucked itself under his chin, nudging herself closer until his arms wrapped around her frame. 

"How about you start with lunch and we'll figure it out as we go?"


	36. Regulation cots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You get some fluff! And, you get some fluff! EVERYBODY GETS SOME FLUUUUUUFF!!

There were six different hammocks hanging around the family property. Or, at least, that was as many as Harry had found, until now. After lunch and a shower and a whole lot of crying from Alex that he was not quite sure where it had come from, the floramancer had wiped away her eyes and stiffly announced that she was going to take a nap in the hammock. Hence, how he had unintentionally started a hammock census on the Figueroa property. 

He stopped to take a break under one of the mango trees, reaching up to tear a large, bright yellow and red fruit from its branches with a sharp tug. Fishing out a pocket knife from his trousers, he sliced around the pit and cut a sliver, bring the piece closer to his mouth with the blade. Harry chewed thoughtfully, leaning against the cool bark. He felt… something. Like he was not alone in this part of the backyard, which was fair enough as he had already seen a whole menagerie of creatures leisurely prancing about, but he had the distinct feeling that he was being watched. 

Another sliver of mango in his mouth, he tilted his head upward into the dense foliage above and groaned. There were three extra hammocks within the tree's crown and even though he wanted to question why a family of five would _ever_ need that many hammocks, the movement of a head ducking into the protection of a blue, canvas cradle caught his attention. After a few seconds, the face peeked back, looking at the torn yellow fruit in his hands and hiding when she noticed that he was staring _right at her_. Well, he knew Alex was rather food motivated. Then again, she was _in_ the mango tree. A slight smile crept onto his face as he toyed with the thought that maybe she was more _Harry motivated_ , instead. 

Still, she was up there and likely to stay there and he was… well, safe on the ground with no delusions of grandeur as to whether or not he could get up to her level. The answer was obviously _no_. For the third time in the day he grumbled to himself about being out of shape. He closed the pocket knife and stowed it in his trouser pocket and peeled back a piece of the fruit's rind which he gripped with his teeth and with a small prayer, he hauled himself up into the first joint with an embarrassing whimper. 

Harry was panting by the time he was halfway up the branches and the palms of his hands were raw and full of splinters. Alex's head peeked out cautiously from her hiding place, the chocolate curls hanging down as if attempting to shorten the distance between them, though their owner said nothing. After a while, the constant pulling of his weight was getting both easier and harder. He now understood how to push his weight so that his arms weren't doing the brunt of the work, but with every movement, his body felt heavier. When he finally pulled himself into the hammock, careful not to overturn the whole thing and sending them both to the ground, he was out of breath and aching. The mango rind left a bitter taste in his mouth as he spit it out and settled in, wedging himself beside Alex. 

"How do you get up here without feeling entirely too knackered?"

Alex chuckled. "Well, I use the ladder, but, you know, maybe don't ignore me when I suggest we go for a run."

"The ladder!?" She pointed over towards the tree trunk, were a rope ladder hung. "You could've said something."

"You could've taken a hint." Despite her comeback, Alex had wrapped her arms around his middle, coming near until she was flush against his form and her head was firmly over his heart. 

Harry rolled his eyes, glad that she couldn't see him. "Yes. How dare I be worried about you?" There was no response other than an indignant huff of air, so the whitelighter assumed that the best course of action was to continue eating his snack until she was in a talking mood again. So, maybe there was an element of bribery, but what could he do?

Retrieving his knife, he maneuvered around her to cut another piece of fruit, letting the remainder rest on his lap so he could free his hand to stroke Alex's back. He cut another chunk, the juice dripping down the blade of the knife like pale yellow blood, and held it up. "Would you like some?" Alex was only too eager to reach for the slice, but he pulled back, instantly. "Uh-uh. Use your words."

The glare she shot him could've killed him, if it were possible. "Give it."

Harry tutted. "I've all day." He offered the slice again. "Would you like some?"

Alex released a shaky breath, clearly forcing herself to remain calm. "Yes."

"Yes, what?"

Her brow furrowed, confused. "Yes, _sir_?"

The Brit let out a peel of laughter. "I meant, _yes, please_ , but that works, too, I suppose."

"You're disgusting," she grumbled, snatching the fruit and popping it into her mouth. 

"I wasn't the one who immediately thought of power dynamics, Alex." There was lingering smile on his mouth. "I am a Women's Studies professor, Alex, honestly." 

There was silence, once again. He traded off feeding himself and Alex until the pit was clean and he tossed it over the side towards a pile of mulch used for compost. He could kind of understand why there was such an excess of hammocks. They were comfortable, kept you safe and rocked you every time the branches swayed with a light breeze. With Alex's cool skin pressed beside him, the whole experience was almost hypnotic. In fact, he was beginning to drift off as the late afternoon rays filtered through the leaves when Alex spoke. 

"I thought you'd be upset." Her voice barely carried in the sounds of the forest. "We have responsibilities and we're… so _new_ , despite all the shit that's happened. Any other couple would be insane to have moved in together, already, much less… and then, I thought of your family. You already did the wife and kid life and…"

"James Westwell had a wonderful life with a wife and child and I don't know who that person is, save for a few flashes. I have a better grasp on the Kardashians than I do, him." He pressed a kiss on her crown, connecting with the sparkling green eyes inspecting him for traces of a lie. He knew she wouldn't find one. He sighed, steeling his resolve. "No responsibility will ever supersede my relationship with you and I would _never_ be upset over something that clearly took _both of us_ to achieve. After all, I don't think you've quiet mastered self-pollination." He grinned when she giggled against his chest, and he let out a breath. 

"I was also… well, scared. I wasn't ready to deal with it and I am still most definitely not ready to be a… you know."

His hands had tangled in her hair, brushing the curls, still damp from her shower out of her face in a repetitive motion. "I understand, and I would have more than understood." Harry tilted her face towards him. "More to the point, we have nothing but time, you know that, right? No hurry for _anything_."

"Mostly, the reason I freaked out was because this isn't the first time… what I mean to say is… I've kind of had a pregnancy scare before and…"

Harry felt realization dawn on him. He tried to ignore the prickle of jealousy in his gut that came uninvited to the party. "Ah! Didn't go well, I assume?"

"Well, no…," she said, carefully. "Do you remember Marcus?"

It was his turn to be careful. "Yes."

"The reason that he was playing alone and no one was there to watch him was that… well, I was sort of dating his older half-brother-" " _Oh, Lord_ " "- and I was really late so I told him. He… er… skipped town for a _few weeks_."

Something primal roiled inside of Harry, and he fought to keep it contained. "So, you're saying that it's _his_ fault you _both_ died."

"No, that I'm saying is that it's _my fault_ that he skipped and we died."

His hands cupped her cheeks and he stared at her with a passive expression. "I am going to wring his neck," he said, matter-of-factly, before shifting in his spot to get out of the hammock (a feat he did not expect to be this difficult, especially when he was filled with righteous rage). 

"Har, there's no need to overreact, here," her small hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling him back into the cradle. 

"There bloody well is, Ale. This makes _so much fucking sense_ now." He laughed, drily. "I've spent ages wondering who hurt you and now that I know, I have to kill them. Them's the rules," he half-growled, the edge of his Mancunian accent slipping into his usually refined dialect. 

"What would that solve?"

"M' fucking rage, for one," he shot back, his face like thunder. "If he hadn't fled like a twat-"

"We'd both be dead," she interrupted, calmly. "I wouldn't have died, my memories would be intact. I wouldn't have gone to Hilltowne. My whitelighter powers wouldn't have been active and I wouldn't have been able to save you and the Apocalypse… well, you can see where I'm going."

"You would have _lived_."

"As a housewife with dead dreams and aspirations. Without _you_. A mediocre plant witch with half of her soul missing." Her tone was very matter-of-fact and it stilled his movements until he was sinking back into the canvas with a conflicted look on his face. 

"You think I'm the other half of your soul?"

Alex rolled her eyes, smirking good-naturedly. "I didn't fucking stutter, did I?" Her eyes flickered towards the horizon, where the sun was fast fading into the ether. "Can I take you somewhere?" She reached out her hand, palm up. It was only a second before he nodded and twined his fingers with hers. With the familiar pull, they orbed from the spot, at once. 

The scent of salty air was the first thing he noticed upon arrival. They were high up on a mountain, its cliff facing the sea to the West. Harry's dark gaze swept over the area. It was familiar in an eerie sort of way. He had been there once; seen it twice, but it never got any easier to live with the burden of what had happened there. He watched Alex stay far from the cave entrance, behind, hidden by trees and bushes and a patch of wild, centaur-bred lavender. Despite her resolve to not look within, her eyes glanced at the darkened corner where she had hid while her whitelighter died. Harry was standing roughly in the same spot he had been on that day, and a dull ache that was not his own cut through him. 

"Come on," she called, softly, her eyes on a small shelf of rock that jutted just beyond the cliff, making a floating ledge. With little hesitation, she hopped onto the rock below and took a seat at the edge, her legs hanging over the side. With a moment's hesitation, he followed, pleading to whatever deity that deemed it fit that this rock would not give under both of their weights. "Whenever I was having a bad day or freaking out or just feeling like crap, I'd drive out here. It takes a hot minute to hike up the side of the mountain, but I'd sit here and remember good moments of my life. I'd remember the sacrifices that got me here, regardless of the reason and I'd thank whatever idiot it was that gave me a chance and distracted Charity while I was freaking out too much to hide."

Harry fidgeted uncomfortably as he lowered himself beside her. "It was quite literally the least I could do. God forbid I actually _help_."

"Was I upset about what happened? Yes. Was I downright pissed when I realized it was you? One hundred percent. Did I want to murder you when I found out you were actually a _whitelighter_? Absolutely-"

"Is there a point here?" His voice was rough and annoyed (though mostly at himself).

"You knew that Charity had already tracked Robert here, and you knew that she wasn't sure if I was here, too. And there wasn't, and still isn't, a day that went by that I didn't thank my lucky stars for putting you in my path." She smiled, turning away from the sunset to look at him and his conflicted expression. "If I'm ever quiet or reserved it's not because I don't trust you, it's because I don't want to entertain the idea of losing you. Because of you this became my favorite spot in the whole world. The place where I got the chance to live." Alex leaned forward and brushed her lips with his in a short kiss. "I'm sorry that I let my past fears color my present. It's an issue and I'm definitely trying to get better. And, I love you."

"I love you more," he replied with a half smile, draping an arm around her shoulders. 

"It's not a competition, but if it were I'd crush you."

Harry didn't argue, opting to drop a kiss on her crown before laying his cheek against it. The light was quickly fading on the azure water below. Yellows, oranges, purples, and reds painted the sky with the impending dusk, while the sound of crashing waves lulled them into calm. Though his rage for the other man had not disappeared, it was hard to be angry with such a feeling of love surrounding him. Harry could deal with it later. For now, he was allowed this little glimpse into her personal life and he was not about to let it go to waste.


	37. Woodland fatigues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was having a rough day and I wanted some teeth-rotting fluff and some Harry just being human, moments. We'll have some adventure next chapter.

Caribbean heat did not suit Harry Greenwood's very British body. While the nights were relatively cool and the mountain breeze cut through the house, the days were hot and sticky and there was nary an air conditioning unit in the home. Alex was, understandably, non-plussed and did not even seem to notice that the heat index was currently one hundred and six degrees Fahrenheit. Harry had fallen into a fitful sleep and awoke solely because of the noises coming from the kitchen. 

Groaning, he sat up on the purple bedsheets, noting to himself that he should toss them in the wash after having sweat through them. The alarm clock on the bedside flashed 12:31 pm; he had slept through the morning, it seemed. It was an extra moment to tug off the clothing, shower and run through his morning ablutions before he walked, barefoot and tussled towards the kitchen. If asked point blank, he couldn't remember the last time he had traipsed around in just his boxers and a t-shirt, but the universe had another thing coming if it thought he was about to add another layer to this uncomfortable, hot mess. 

Harry sat at the counter, quickly gulping down the pointedly left glass of passion fruit drink in the spot and ripped a piece off of a crusty bread loaf to gnaw on. Alex was, in short, in the zone. Although Harry had eaten her cooking many a time, it had occurred to him that he had never really seen her cooking anything, or if he did, it had been her putting the finishing touches on a dish before sitting down for the meal. 

Alexandra leaned over the counter to grace him with a kiss. "Hey, sleepy head. I'll get you some caffeine in a sec, OK?" He had merely grunted a response that was neither positive nor negative. 

On a large chopping board, she had a selection of onions, peppers, cilantro, garlic, tomatoes, and spices that he had never even seen. In her hand, she had a small chef's knife, eight inches, though he could see a ten and twelve inch knife in the block behind her. He quickly wondered whether it was a rule long-enforced within the halls where the child was meant to wield the smallest knife to protect her fingers. He could almost picture the matriarch she so closely resembled, teaching her granddaughter the correct method to peel and chop her garlic. With precise, bold strokes, she had broken down a portion of the vegetables into a fine paste and with some oil and vinegar, she had dropped a scoop into a sizzling pan. 

The steam that followed permeated every inch of the kitchen. It smelled of an oral tradition of learning, of the hundreds of stories that had begun just like this, of the hundreds of years of people eating the same foods that it almost felt like they were all sitting down together for a meal. It felt like a home warmed with fire in the middle of a harsh winter, of a frog that filled the night air with its song. God, it felt like so much love and Harry couldn't quite put his finger on it. He never really ever felt the need to wax philosophical about food, unless it was a good bit of rarebit. 

"There you go, babe."

A cup of coffee, fresh butter and fresh cheese were placed in front of him, knocking the whitelighter away from his sentimental rollercoaster for just a second, to slather his hunk of bread with butter and stack on some cheese. Alex smiled at him, incandescent and sincere. Her skin was several shades darker and glistened in the low light of the kitchen. He would have romanticized that it was just the way her whole being glowed because she was a beautiful, radiant creature, but there was a small part of him that wondered whether the sun at this latitude was doing her favors and somehow charging her magic. So to speak, she usually _did_ glow, but she didn't usually _glow_. He, on the other hand, looked like a freshly-dipped lobster and the bridge of his nose was peeling.

Chicken went into a pot to stew, soaked kidney beans were dropped into a pressure cooker, and rice was getting washed in such an immaculate symphony. A decade apart from this kitchen had not dulled her sense of where every element was housed. With a twirl, she had set the rice to cook and quickly cleaned up the momentary mess to start preparing other things on the chopping board. Two giant tubers went on the board and with quick flicks of her wrist, she was navigating the chef's knife to take off the peel, leaving the pale green flesh bare to the world. The second tuber went by in similar fashion, but its flesh was a light, marbled purple. 

It had taken Harry a solid minute to realize that he was staring intensely at the botanist, and with good reason. The heat of the kitchen was turning her cheeks pink and her hair (which was now longer than he had ever seen it and he often tried to decide if he liked this or the tightly cropped pixie better) was pinned back away from her face into curly pompadour. But it was the sharp skills and absolute command of the kitchen that was the most breathtaking. 

Mel liked to joke that he had a domesticity kink, which was wholly untrue. He was just very invested in domesticity because, for many years, it was the only way for him to rebel against the Elder council without actually rebelling. He wasn't _meant_ to bake and make breakfast and pack lunches for his charges, but they couldn't exactly pin an offense on that behavior. At least, they had not figured out how to pin a charge on it before their unfortunate demise… except, perhaps, for sentencing him to death. 

Domestic bliss was one thing he was entirely denied as a whitelighter as they thought it made them weak and overly attached. He had held fast onto every last shred, thinking that it protected his humanity, just a little. He could do both, surely. When he looked at Alex, well, she _was_ both. He didn't want a housewife he could stare at as she took care of house and home. He wanted a partner that was multifaceted and that could take turns with him to take care of homely tasks. It wasn't his fault she looked like a damn Aphrodite as she did it. _Damn, Alex is hot._

The witch snorted, balancing the tip of the knife on the cutting board, halfway through breaking down the vegetables. " _What_ was that?"

"I… er… well… nothing," Harry whispered, turning an angry shade of red before shoving a large chunk of buttered bread in his gob before he put his foot in it, again. Damn his runaway mouth and inability to sustain internal monologue. 

Alex narrowed her gaze in suspicion, before a light dawned on her. "Right. _Domestic kink._ "

The Brit rolled his eyes. "Stop gossiping with Mel. I do _not_ have a kink." Maybe he did, but he would take the secret to his second grave. 

"Oh, well, I have a bunch, so…," she trailed off, giving him a trite smirk while making vegetable wedges. 

He decided to move the conversation, elsewhere. "What are those?"

"Actual sweet potato," she pointed at the slightly green tinged one, " and taro. You'll like it," she said, decisively. 

With little other argument, she had turned to the stove to fry off the vegetables into crunchy chips, placing a few with a pink sauce (mayoketchup, he had learned it was and could not imagine how he had ever lived without it). He popped a steaming, fluffy, thick-cut chip in his mouth and damn near moaned. For this, he would renounce his British birth and learn Spanish.

Through a mouth-full, he caught her attention. "What do _you_ call it?"

"Batata y yautía," Alex replied simply. Finishing the rice and turning off the hob it was sat on and releasing the pressure on the beans. 

"And that?" He pointed at the cheese. The floramancer looked somewhat confused, but with a tender little glimmer in her eyes that somehow made him feel satisfied. 

"Queso de hoja." The bread. "Pan de agua." The butter. "Mantequilla." The glass of passion fruit drink. "Refresco de parcha." She giggled. "Are you OK, bud?"

"I just want to learn." Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose I've gotten complacent with the fact that you speak English and-"

Alex snorted again. "Colonizer."

"You don't have to make fun of me for it."

"I kind of have to. It would be too expensive to ask you for reparations," she said simply, ladling out lunch onto two plates. 

He looked down at the plate: rice with beans on the side, stewed chicken, more of the taro and sweet potato chips, and a hunk of avocado. It felt homey, and nostalgic, even though he was sure that he had never had a meal quite like that in his life. The swirling steam coming up off the food felt like a warm welcome and an invitation to stay for as long as he liked. He was now convinced some ancient magic swirled through the house, but maybe he had just never been served a meal in a home that contained so much love. 

"Leave him alone or I will have you all banished to the pumpkin patch," Alex grumbled, looking at the empty air. Most of the overwhelming emotion had left, all at once, though he still felt welcome, warm and loved. "Sorry about that. They like you a lot and I think they're trying marry us off."

"Family?"

Alex shook her head. "The spirits of the forest. They gifted the wood for the house and we let them hang out."

"They like me?" Harry felt the littlest bit flattered. 

Grinning brightly, Alex propped herself over the plates, straining her neck to kiss him. "Hard not to, babe." She pecked him again. "Eat before it goes cold."

He stopped her hasty retreat, caressing her cheek. "I adore you, Alexandra. More than anything. More than _everything_."

"Sweetheart, I think that's the sofrito fumes and heat stroke talking. Eat your lunch." She laughed, hopping onto the corner of the counter and taking a seat. It seemed like an automatic action, a deeply ingrained habit. "I adore you, too," she retorted, softly, before promptly stuffing her mouth with rice, beans and avocado. "I love you more than avocado with my rice."

"I love you more than morning tea," he countered, smiling so widely that the corner of his eyes crinkled, an eyebrow raising in challenge. 

"Well, I love you more than warm, sunny mornings."

He rolled his eyes. "I love you more than _Welsh rarebit_ ," he delivered, before taking a celebratory bite of stewed chicken and immediately deciding he was, from then on, Puerto Rican. 

Alex gasped, clutching her heart in shock. "I'd say I love you more than Lemongrass, but I don't want to lie," she said, and the cat lounging on top of the cabinets voiced a yip of defense. 

"Oh, same," he countered, winking up at her and glancing shortly at the cat, who was suddenly very interested in their conversation now that they had mentioned him _and_ had food. "I'd love you even if I hadn't manifested that lavender shoot on your back and you couldn't cook for shit." The two laughed raucously, taking a moment of silence to catch up on their lunch. "I'll talk to the girls. Maybe we can split our time between here and Hilltowne. It would make it easier for you to liaise with the other floramancers."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're slowly trying to move me out to the forest."

Harry chuckled. "Believe me, an extra fan or two in here and I will gladly join you in your hermitage amongst the trees." He stood from his place and put away his plate for the washing up. "You look so happy here." He twined his arms around her middle, inhaling the floral scent of her being. 

"I think I just needed to see the sun, if I'm honest," Alex said, laying her head on his shoulder. 

There was a pleased noise that started somewhere in the back of his throat and ended with a content growl as he placed a kiss to the hollow of her throat. "I have to admit, I do like you all warm and smiley and sun-kissed." He put away her empty dish and pressed another kiss to her neck. 

"Damn you and that kink," she joked, tilting her head back, all the same to offer him space. 

He chuckled against her skin. "Yeah, we'll see if you're still complaining later." With one fluid movement, he threw Alex over his shoulder who gave an indignant yelp. After a quick struggle to get free, she gave up, opting to laugh and make half-hearted protests all the way down the hallway.


	38. Search and Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like writing these chapters because I like poring over old photo albums, history books, and scrapbooks and reminiscing about people/places/moments that they're inspired on.

" _ALEX!_ "

Harry wiped his brow, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat as he stopped and took stock of his surroundings. Everything around him was green, of course. There was no trail to follow. There was no river to follow, either. There was only dense foliage as far as the eye could see, in any direction. If he looked up, the forest canopy obstructed the view from the sky, save for the occasional mosaic piece of crystal blue. From the branches above tens of brilliantly colored birds, native parrots, Alex had said, observed him with curiosity. Clearly, it wasn't every day there was a human in their midst, especially one who looked so abysmally lost. 

"Alex!" He called again, though his voice was so roughened from screaming that it was barely carrying through the sound-proof quality of the leaves. "Yes, Alex, we should definitely go into the rainforest to talk to the romancers. It'll only take a minute. No, nothing is going to happen. _Twat,_ " he argued with himself resting his back against some rough bark and sliding all the way to the floor. 

His backpack clattered beside him; a reminder that, had Alex not have been so stubborn about him taking his own set of supplies, he would have probably succumbed to heat stroke, already. For a second, he worried for the plant witch, though the concern was short lived. She had trekked these woods many a time while in university, for _fun_. She would be fine. He would… well, he would rather not think about his current fate. 

_One whitelighter is a visit. Two is a killing squad._

That was what he had been told the last time he had orbed into the floramancer dwelling and was surprised no one raised an alarm. He had very promptly forgotten. This time around, the second their feet touched the ground, some unseen magic had blasted them both apart and sent them into the deep, green belly of the forest. He had been wandering, ever since. 

Digging into the backpack, he pulled out a packet of dried apricots and a bottle of water. Drinking until he felt his lungs stop burning, he tore the fruit open and pulled out a piece, only to notice that one of the parrots had fluttered down from the branches. The metal ring on his leg let Harry know that it was one of the hand-reared birds that the conservancy agency had released into the wild at adolescence. It wasn't odd to see them trustworthy of people, Alex had mentioned. They're awfully naïve and sweet. This one clearly recognized sugary fruit when seen.

Harry clicked his tongue, holding out a piece of apricot in his hand, watching the bird hopping over him with widened, excited eyes. "There you go, then," he said softly, as the parrot pecked at the fruit, making little noises. "You wouldn't happen to know where a tiny, fairly volatile Puerto Rican witch is, would you?" There was no response. "No, of course you wouldn't." He tried not to feel too dismayed. He had asked the forest for help, earlier, but clearly this patch of greenery was not as helpful or trusting as the one in Alex's home. He couldn't seem to orb, either, and so his options had very quickly dwindled down to wandering or dying where he landed.

Once the bird had finished its snack, Harry packed his things and stood, not bothering to dust his trousers off. He could barely see the sun through the trees, glancing at his watch, he determined what direction he needed to walk to go North. A fluttering beside his left ear broke his reverie, surprised to see his winged friend had landed on the strap of his bag and waited expectantly. Some visual jousting between man and beast followed before with a sigh and some rolling of eyes, Harry acquiesced and started his march. It wasn't as if the parrot could make this day go any worse than it already was. 

And, while that was true, it didn't _mean_ the day could not get any worse.

Brush crackled under the weight of the heavy hiking boots. Harry thanked his lucky stars that there were no large predators living on the island, ready to make a tasty meal out of him. Heaven knew he hadn't the energy (or the skill) to fight anything off. The thought didn't make him feel any better when the parrot, seemingly alarmed, began to make noises and peck at his ear. The creature stretched its verdant wings, taking part of the strap in his beak and tried to tug him back the way they came. 

The Brit attempted to brush the bird away. "What the hell are you doi- _aaaaaaaaaaaaargh_ "

The feeling of the ground giving away from under him filled his stomach with gravel. The seemingly solid patch of grass he had stepped on was nothing more than overgrown weeds and Harry found himself flailing down the side of a cliff, catching errant roots and branches. His hands fought to find any purchase, leaving him with raw palms and him _still_ falling. That was, until his back met the ground with a solid thump. 

Harry winced, all the air having been knocked out of him. Deep in his bones, he could feel the familiar burn of his whitelighter magic rushing to heal his body and prevent his untimely death. He coughed, just as his lungs filled with the oxygen he so desperately gulped down. Something from his backpack was sticking into him in a rather painful way, but he didn't think he was dying quite yet. To top off his general misery, the parrot, this friendly, foolish little bird landed on his chest with a gentle pressure and stared him down in a way that just screamed _I told you so_. He stared at the sky above for what seemed like an eternity, contemplating his current existence and whether or not he preferred to die here, of exhaustion, dehydration and element exposure, or just down the road. 

"Caballero, por razones de seguridad, usted no puede estar en esta parte del bosque."

The whitelighter barely lifted his head, to see female park ranger, in her dark green trousers and beige shirt, crouching slightly to assess his condition. Another ranger, a male, lingered a little ways behind, looking equally quizzical. 

"I'm sorry. I don't really speak much Spanish," he replied. His hand cupped around the parrot as he brought himself up to a sit, wincing in pain as his protesting muscles stretched. The rangers spoke in hushed tones, the man showing the woman something on his mobile before gesturing the Brit with his head. 

"Sir, you need to come with us. We're going to take you to the Visitor's Center, OK?" The female ranger helped Harry up to his feet, sharing questioning glances with her partner. For all their curious looks and concerned faces, neither of them looked bothered about the fact that he was carrying a protected bird around like it was nothing more than a cuddly toy.

Harry was stuffed into the back of a Jeep and driven down narrow, jungle paths until they came to a structure with a canopy of metal beams. A sign declaring it "El Portal" lay a few yards further. Still disoriented (a concussion was a very real probability, in his humble opinion) he was ushered inside. 

"Ese es él!" Harry's head whipped around to find the source of the voice, a welcome sound, indeed. "Oh, my God. Harry!" The parrot took flight as Alex threw her arms around him in a tight embrace. The witch held his face in her hands, fingers brushing over scratches and bruises before peppering it with kisses and drawing back to make sure that he was still there. 

"How _clears throat_ how long have I been-"

Her bright eyes were aflame. "Five hours. You've been out there for _five_ hours! How could you not have expected there to be a spell against-"

" _Alex_ , the rangers will…," he hissed, glancing over his shoulder at the two rangers who had come for him, noting that the female had the parrot on her shoulder and was gently patting its green and teal head. He knew he should feel the tiniest bit annoyed, but could not, for the life of him, manifest the emotion when his head felt so squidgy. "The Park Rangers are all floramancers, aren't they?"

Alex rolled her eyes. "No, they let the _muggles_ control their sacred land and animals. _Of fucking course they're floramancers_." Her head peeked around him. "Kind of unhelpful, but floramancers."

"Are you alright?" He hoarsed, leaning his forehead on her shoulder, trying to quell the drumming in his head. 

"Never mind me. Let's get you checked up," she fussed, her hands shaking. "You look like shit and they wouldn't go out to get you and…"

Harry was instantly alarmed. "Something's wrong. What's wrong?"

"Nothing you need to worry about now," she replied, her voice stern. "I need to make sure you're well. _Please_."

With a reluctant nod, Harry allowed Alex to lead him around the building to a structure he had not noticed before. Once they crossed the threshold, he noticed the multitude it contained within itself; a whole community ensconced under the façade of the rainforest national park. When he had been here before, he had been taken to a small cabin in the forest, clearly not wanting the whitelighter near the romancers for security reasons. Now, Alex led him by the hand narrowing her eyes and baring her teeth at anyone who dared question her decision of bringing him into the protected zone. 

His dark eyes flittered over the circular homes, looking like traditional structures but full of modern amenities. Alex had told him the taíno name for a village like this, but he was struggling to recall it in his shredded brain. Not to mention, his girlfriend seemed to almost fly across the dirt, tugging him behind her in a rush and away from prying eyes. She pulled him into one of the larger homes at the end of a large central circle. 

" _Yukayeke_ ," he burst, finally able to grasp the word and wield it in victory. 

Alex turned her head to him, her green eyes soft and loving. Harry sighed at the sight, melting. "Yeah, babe. It's a _yukayeke_. Good job." Her smile lit up her expression. "Can you remember what the middle section's called?"

"He shouldn't be here." A voice ripped them both from the comfortable bubble they had nestled themselves in. Harry lifted his gaze to see an older gentleman, tall, extremely fair with curly brown hair that was more than liberally dusted with grays. Try as he might, he couldn't really place the accent with which the man spoke. The steely gaze he had fixed on them, however, was a perfect replica of Alex's own, down to the rings of molten gold around the pupils.

"Well, lucky for us it's not you we're here for, is it?" If Alex had hackles, they would have been raised as she made herself large and firmly planted herself in front of him. "So, how about you grab a longboat and fuck off?"

"Both of you, stop." Harry relaxed at the vision of the matriarch marching into the room with a handful of bowls and ingredients. Yúcahu gave them meaningful stares before reaching out for Harry, a warm, kind smile on her face. "Come."

"Why do I have to behave when he's the one being a dick to us?" The younger woman seethed, glaring daggers that were so clearly returned. 

The man growled, pushing away from the wall. The air crackled with static around them. "Listen here, little girl-"

Harry could feel simmering anger creeping up the back of his neck that he was sure was not his. "How about you shove the casual sexism up your ass, Discount Thor?"

"If you are _not_ going to help me with her mate, could you at least not rile her?" Yúcahu's melodious accent cut in, without so much as a glance in their direction.

Sitting down where indicated, and the elder rubbed a salve into his temples that made him feel awfully tingly, but cleared his brain. "Who is that?"

Harry watched as the corner of the elder's mouth twitched. "Husband. He does not get out much."

"Thank the Lord for small miracles," Alex irrupted, rolling her eyes. 

"He… er… doesn't look… you know…"

"The Vikings got around, evidently." His lover's stance had not moved from the cross-armed blockade it had taken up, unbothered by the towering Norseman glowering at her form. 

Harry mouthed _Viking_ at Yúcahu, who merely shrugged and smirked. "How did that even work?" The smile brightened further, though she said nothing. 

"Take your mate and leave, little girl," the man pressed. 

"Hjalmar," Yúcahu muttered, the word sounding like the faintest of warnings. "Family."

"She is, maybe. Not him." Harry felt uncomfortable with the way he was being appraised. "A mercenary for the Elders. Why should we trust him?"

"I beg your pardon," he found himself saying, his world spinning as he moved his head just a little too fast. "I'm no such thing, and I can assure you-"

"I _wasn't_ talking to you, beast." There was a crack of thunder outside and the wind picked up.

" _Tei toca_ , Hurakan," Alex ordered, staring pointedly at the man. 

Harry stared between the two for far longer than he should have before putting two and two together. Yúcahu was the mythical spirit of the forest. Hurakan was the mythical (and angry) spirit of storms. Well, he fit the description, at the very least. 

"Hjalmar was hard to pronounce in the beginning," the grandmother whispered as if reading his mind, dabbing tinctures onto his open palms. 

"No judgement here, believe me," the whitelighter replied, a casual smile gracing his features. "And, thank you for interceding for us."

"You're a good boy." Harry was sure he had never felt any prouder about some trite bit of praise, but he lavished over it, regardless. This woman had pretty much seen it all and _still_ thought he was a good boy. "I'll go deal with him. Sit and rest."

Alex watched the older man roll his eyes in some semblance of defeat before dutifully following his wife deeper into the home. After staring at the darkened hallway for a long minute, she had allowed herself to unfurl her arms and collapse into a heap beside him, tucking herself into his side. Harry smiled, pressing a kiss to her crown and leaning over just enough to catch her scowling face, noting that there was an angry red welt running down the side of her face that he had somehow glossed over earlier. 

"What happened there?" He asked, tilting her chin up.

"Hjalmar."

A darkness dawned on his eyes. "What?"

"Sneaking into Fort Knox is probably easier than getting into this village. Hjalmar was not convinced of who I was. We had words."

"Why would you-"

"You had been lost for two hours by that point. I was _getting you back_ ," she argued, as if it were obvious. "Turns out whitelighters in the olden days were powerful bastards, though." Her emotions shifted, there were roiling just under the surface and threatening to boil over, though it wasn't violent anger or anything of the sort. It felt more like intense guilt that wafted off her in waves, the same way the lavender scent did off of her skin. "I fucked up."

Harry frowned, arm snaking around her waist to bring her closer. Surely, his love could do no harm. "How do you mean?"

"I told you I was no good at this negotiating lark," Alex defended, unprompted. "They all hate me. They hate that I was demanding the spells to be lifted so I could search for you and they resent me because I'm a direct line to Tata and… it just went to shit so fast."

"They can't resent you for living; it's not your fault who you're related to. And, well, they can't really fault you for wanting to find your… whatever it is you call me," he finished, trying his best not to make a face to cover his awkwardness. 

Alex probed him with an intense stare. "Is that your personal or professional opinion, Whitelighter Greenwood?"

His cheeks colored, eyes dropping away from hers as if recoiling in pain. "Point taken." 

He sighed, the sound turning annoyed at the thunderous footsteps coming back up the hall. "Girl, come say your piece." Alex and Harry's gazes met so they could share a mutual rolling of eyes before shuffling out of the seat towards where the Viking stood. " _Just_ the girl."

"We're sort of a package deal," Alex had said before Harry could even decide what to retort. 

The older man looked bored as he leant against the wall, pulling an ornate pocket watch out of his trouser pocket and absently stared at the arms twitch down the minutes. "They don't trust him."

"No, _you_ don't trust him. They could not give a shit who either of us are because it's never mattered."

"The community does not take kindly to deserters, child. Their memories are long."

Alex's face contorted half in confusion, half in disbelief. "I didn't desert them. I _died_ and was bound and sent to fucking _Michigan_. Half the people in this village were there when it happened."

Hjalmar had the gall to laugh. "Yes, I've heard your tale. It makes for a good bedtime story." He stared back with the reflection of her own. "We didn't need the Elders then, we certainly don't need them now."

"The Elders are dead. We only mean to offer you friendship and peace between the magicals. Tata knew-"

"Don't bring your grandmother into this, Alejandra!"

"I don't know who the hell you are or what you have against me, but I'm not going _anywhere_ or talking to _anyone_ unless my whitelighter is with me. If that means we can't have a conversation, then fine."

Harry had watched them volley back and forth in silence. He did not feel like it was a good time to interrupt or let them know that he was, indeed, still in the room and did not appreciate being talked about as if he wasn't there. It was only the comforting grip of her hand on his that kept him from saying anything. If he was taking his role as advisor and magical expert seriously, he would have insisted Alex go with him and talk to the rest of the community about their terms for entering the peace treaty. Thankfully, that responsible side of him had been dreadfully quiet since the aversion of the Apocalypse, adopting more of an _accept the full person, faults included, or not at all_ mentality. Whether or not Hjalmar wanted to accept it, by virtue of his relationship with Alex, Harry was part of this deal, too. 

"Let's go home, Har," she whispered, flashing him a brief smile. "You know how to reach us, when you decide you want to talk," she said decisively at her many times great grandfather. Her fingers had twined around his own, their warmth keeping Harry grounded amidst the current confusion occupying his brain. Alex had started walking, not sparing a backwards glance, but he did notice her start to count backwards from five under her breath. Just as she was about to utter _one_ …

" _Alejandra!_ "

Harry pretended he wasn't entirely in love with the self-satisfied smile that pulled the corners of her mouth into a Cheshire-like grin. A grin she made sure to quickly cover up with false concern when she pivoted on her heel to face Hjalmar. "Yes?"

"Come, they're waiting for you. _Both_ of you."


	39. Alliance negotiations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiiiiii... little chapter here. :)

"Clever girl," Harry muttered, making a show of brushing his lips against the shell of Alex's ear. 

He watched the edge of her lips quirk minutely, forcing down the grin threatening to break through. The pair walked after Hjalmar, through a narrow corridor made of bamboo that bent at the top to form a cathedral-like structure. Alex squeezed the hand she had in her grip, in acknowledgement, deciding that the since the walls could literally hear that it was better not to make any comment. 

At the end of the corridor, they came to a rotunda where dappled light, filtered by the branches and leaves overhead, provided soothing natural illumination. Despite its inviting aesthetic, a shiver ran down the length of both their backs at the eerie similarity the room had to the rotunda where the Elders used to congregate. The only difference was that, in place of opulent marble there was wild and chaotic nature; in the stead of coves for each individual member, the pockets hewn in the trunks of centuries-old trees fit a witch-whitelighter couple, each. Most of the alcoves were full, but a few looked like they had not been occupied for decades and it spoke of the tragic hunts that had been popular until fairly recently. 

Though nothing had alerted them to any sort of danger, both Harry and Alex felt suddenly fidgety –rooms like these never led to great memories. They found themselves huddling closer together, finally opting for standing back to back in the dead center of the room while Hjalmar moved away, climbing up steps made of conveniently placed roots up to where his companion waited. A faint rustling pricked at his ears before his eyes zeroed in on vines slithering under the forest brush towards them. 

"Harry…"

The grip on her hand increased. "I see it." 

The greenery had steadily approached, threatening to nip at their ankles in their proximity. "Uh uh. Not happening," Alex growled, exerting her magic and Harry breathed a small sigh of relief to see the vines stop cold, twitching back and forth like the tail of a cat. 

"It's to raise you to the platform, dear," a woman to their far right, blonde as the sun, perfectly tan and beaming excitedly, said. Her hand gestured and they both looked up to the circular platform hanging above their heads. She was the only one of the seven occupied alcoves sitting alone. The space beside her seemed to have been abandon a long time ago making Harry oddly grief-stricken at the loss of another whitelighter he had never met.

Alex scoffed, likely trying to swallow the expletives burning to bubble out of her throat. "What the– I have a whitelighter, we can orb there. Also, don't fucking corner people with plants while you stare at them from your ominous-ass perches. What the hell is wrong with you?"

The crowd was staring back with half amused, half concerned expressions that forced a chuckle out of Harry's mouth. 

"Well, what are you waiting for then, doll?" The same woman asked, gesturing again to the platform. 

There was a noise of complaint when they materialized on the other end, forcing Harry to offer a quiet apology. However, the words fell on mostly deaf ears as they took in the nature of their enclosure. Thin rods of wood surrounded them and gathered at the top, giving the platform the feel of being a giant bird cage. Alex, curious, reached forward to place her palm onto one of the bars, and the distinctive buzzing of magic flowed through both of their beings. It would be only too easy to squeeze the life out of both of them in this pretty prison. 

"You seem nervous. I wonder why," Hjalmar commented off-hand, smirking.

"Shut up." The response came simultaneously from Alex, as well as Yúcahu. There was tittering around the room that echoed in their ears, though it seemed to calm them down enough to abandon their back-to-back battle stance and stand, instead, side by side. The elder floramancer gestured Alex ahead, encouragingly.

"This is a great time to realize you hate public speaking, isn't it?" Alex kidded and another laugh circulated the room. "Er… hi. I'm Alex… andra – Alejandra. That's Harry," she gestured at the whitelighter who was occupied in memorizing the sea of faces around them, one by one, though he waved briefly. "We're here in representation of the Charmed Ones." A murmur went through the room. "You guys don't care about that, I gather," she added before sighing. 

Her eyes trailed up to Harry's, looking confused, defeated and pleading for help. "You've got it. They're no different from you."

Something in that sentiment seemed to click inside her brain for she nodded and took a deep breath. "Actually, I'm here because I want to and because this is my home, too."

"You haven't been here in many years," a man supplied. Alex and Harry turned their heads towards the copper-skinned man, casually leaning over the railing with a lopsided grin. "You've been living and learning under the Elder council and honestly we don't think we'd benefit from any offer the Charmed Ones might make."

"Told you they hate me," she whispered at Harry who had no other response other than a pained grimace. "It's really easy for you to judge all the way up from your gilded cage."

"Take it easy, love, they can still kill us," Harry managed to say through the clenched teeth of a forced smile. 

"But, it's true, Harry. They live in a Utopian bubble, sure it was birthed out of persecution and murder, but they've been safe for a long time now. The only ones who die are those who chose to live outside the haven walls and see the world, share with other magicals," she argued back, angry. 

"Why should we offer ourselves up like lambs to a slaughter?" It was Hjalmar, ever the Devil's advocate, who spoke.

"What makes you think you're special enough to warrant persecution, _Sparky_?"

There was the crackle of electricity in the air and though Harry could feel Alex's pulse quicken, she didn't move from her spot or shrink back. "She got that attitude from you," he whispered to Yúcahu with a grin and a look in his eyes that was dangerously close to pride. His wife stared back as if waiting for the punchline to the rest of his joke. "What's your bottom line here, little one? How are you any different from the Council?"

"We're not here to advocate for any one particular party. We just want to make sure that what happened under the Elders doesn't happen ever again and, well, you guys are kind of the experts of protection and peaceful living." Alex shifted nervously. "Well, up until you nearly blasted me to Kingdom Come for jumping a fence." Her fingers rubbed at the tender bit on her face in reflex. "By the way, Ezra, I haven't been here because I was memory wiped for over a decade and you know it, jackass."

"Still not getting that bit about being able to kill us, I see," Harry muttered. "Not to mention that this is awful diplomacy." 

"I didn't shoot to kill," Hjalmar offered, as if that alone should be a balm for his transgression. "You can also talk to plants. I don't know at what point climbing a fence became a better option than asking the forest for help."

Alex's face fell dead-pan. "Maybe because I could _see_ you across the fence, asked you for help, and you ignored me?"

"I was curious as to what you'd do." He shrugged, leaning back in his seat and lazily spreading out. "You proved most interesting."

Another voice interrupted their banter, a woman with a thick Spanish accent and dark ebony waves. "What would we need to offer to buy into the treaty, so to speak."

Alex tilted her head, frowning. "Nothing. We're offering a 'hey, let's agree to not murder each other' treaty."

"No collateral? No dirty secret to assure compliance?"

"Well, that's blackmail, so... no?" She shrugged. "Operating on goodwill has been working for us just fine. We're just trying to look after one another against demons and stuff."

"I don't trust this so called negotiation. I trust the other magicals as far as I can throw them... without help from the forest." The woman turned her nose to the pair, leaving her wife to offer an apologetic smile at them. "Let's vote. This is going nowhere."

"Wait, we haven't even made our poi–" Harry interjected, hurriedly. 

"The tribe of the Dwarf Forest of El Yunque will sign." Whatever bickering was happening up until that moment was quickly silenced both by the decision and by the person who had made it. Yúcahu turned to look beside her, seemingly as flabbergasted at the choice (though thoroughly pleased) as everyone else.

Ezra was the one to build the defense. "Hjalmar, the tribe of the Dwarf Forest has the most power. That's why we take votes to –"

"I'm not asking your tribes to sign. I am simply saying that myself and Yúcahu will be signing on behalf of our tribe."

"Why? They've given us no reason to trust their promises. Not to mention you–"

A crack of thunder accompanied the darkening of the Viking's face. " _What_ about me?"

"What I meant, Father Light, is that we don't know what we're getting ourselves into, maybe not because of your child and her mate, but because of the witches she works for," Ezra explained, looking suitably contrite for thinking he could argue with Hjalmar. 

"Father Light?" Harry asked quietly beside him. 

Alex craned her neck up, speaking softly as the group around them still argued amongst themselves. "Father Light and Mother Flora; they're honorary titles because they're the eldest floramancer couple and top of the family tree in the Caribbean, as it were."

"It's risky for us to join you, you know that, right?" The blonde woman from earlier, interjected. "How sure are you of the pay out?"

Hjalmar straightened up in his seat, eyes appraising Alex and Harry where they awkwardly stood, waiting patiently for the people's judgement as they were talked about as though they weren't _standing right there_. A smirk tugged on his lips as he nodded, as if spotting something hidden in their demeanor. "The winds blow in her favor and fair seas are due to follow," he said, as if that explained everything. Apparently his nautical-themed metaphors were not unusual, as no one argued. "Besides, I've just gotten the Little One back, if we don't sign she's not likely to return." He threw a cursory wink at an amused Alex. 

"So you'd put your tribe at risk for the sake of some familial bonding?" Ezra interjected, breaking up the tender moment. 

The Norse man laughed heartily at the question. "No, of course not. I'd pillage your whole village for some familial bonding. I'm signing the treaty because it's a logical choice." 

Harry felt himself tickled at the sentiment and the fact that Alex had tried to cover her snort with a cough and had only succeeded in having everyone glare in their direction. 

"Well, then," the blonde said, "the Cuban tribe will sign, as well."

"And the Bahamas," another couple offered. 

There was more murmuring among the chamber. Harry looked at Alex gesturing her with his head to say something, anything – a reassurance, a bargain. He was met with a pout and could feel that she was ridiculously close to tantruming for having to interact with so many people directly for this long. He gave her a warning look – he wanted to be of help, of course he did, but she needed to feel like she was in control of the situation, like she was part of this group because she was. The feeling of _otherness_ had been creeping under his skin through her touch for a few minutes now and he knew that if she didn't get her feet under her now, when she was under pressure, she would shy away from the community and it would be another ten years before she tried to communicate again. 

"You can abstain from signing, for now," Alex supplied. "We want you to join us, but if you want to make sure that nothing will happen to your people and want to see how the other tribes get on, go ahead. Nothing in the treaty will preclude you from your normal interactions even if one party has signed and the other hasn't. We also won't abandon you, if you don't. We'll still come to your aid, regardless. The treaty is simply a sign of good will."

"Where can we find you, should we decide to sign?" A man with dark skin and a crisp, white linen shirt asked.

"You can visit the house at the _Tabebuias_ and light the ancestral flame… or you can, you know, email me: Alex fig at hilltowne dot ee dee you. No need for the smoke and mirrors routine." She smirked. "You know, like _this_." She gestured to the wooden cage and the rotunda. "Speaking of which, could we not be here, anymore? This room gives me the creeps." Laughter bubbled around them and she retained an easy smile as the pairs stood from their seats, and started walking down to the ground floor. 

Harry smiled, turning beside him to beam down at Alex. "That was rough, and I mean _rough_ , but a good first attempt."

"What do you mean? That was great!" She argued back, standing on her tip toes to press a kiss to his cheek. "Now, can you get us out of here?"

"Ah, about that," he started. "I think this is a one-way cage. I can't orb us out," he admitted, having attempted to teleport them once the others had started moving. 

"Ugh," Alex groaned. "I bet this is his idea of a joke. _Hjalmar_ , what the hell, dude!?"

The Viking turned, smiling impishly at the couple hanging fruitlessly from the ceiling. "You said you didn't want the vines, Little One."

"Get us out of here, or so help me–"

He smiled wider. "Do you really want to threaten me?"

She barely took a beat before responding. "I will fuck up your shit, Twinkle Toes!"

Amidst their argument, Yúcahu sent a torrent of vines to create steps up to the cage, which Harry promptly took, leaving Alex to scream fruitlessly back and forth with Hjalmar. "Come, I'll make you dinner," the elder said gently, taking Harry's proffered arm and starting back down the corridor. "They'll eventually notice we're gone."

"I'm more concerned about the fact that, dear Lord, there's _two of them_. Alex alone is a struggle," Harry quipped back, smiling.


	40. Brother in arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, look! A chapter! ... that might have been in my queue for a month, but nevermind, it's here now. :)

Hilltowne, in comparison to Puerto Rico, was chilly. Harry, against all reason, had spent most of his day back wrapped in a cardigan and fielding questions as to why he looked so tan (spending his weekend marching at a protest had been his best excuse, on the spot). In the comfort of his office, he curled up behind his desk with a warm mug of tea, letting the strong, rich aroma seep into his bones and warm him up. He would hate to admit it, but he somehow missed the stifling heat, or maybe it was Alex who missed it and her feelings were spilling over, by default. If that were the case, they had hit a new threshold in their connection, as the botanist was currently three buildings over, but that wouldn't have been the weirdest thing to have happened this week. Still, as he made his way back home, he kept sighing nostalgically for the still-green foliage and baking sun rather than indulging in his ever-favorite sweater-weather. 

The door to the flat swung open and Harry crossed the threshold with an easy smile. Alex had returned to their shared condo after her morning class while Harry pretended that his presence at Hilltowne wasn't trite and unnecessary. "Alex, I'm ho– Hjalmar. Pleasure seeing you," Harry said, pleasantly, attempting to not look surprised at the presence of the floramancer seated at his kitchen island. 

The Norseman leveled a calculating gaze on Harry, which made him feel so heavy he thought it might crush his lungs. "Little One got anxious. Went to get papers from your witches."

"The treaty? Yes, she mentioned something about that this morning." Harry pretended not to feel uncomfortable as he loosened his tie and pulled it off over his head and shedding his suit jacket. "Can I offer you anything? Tea? Coffee? Water? The soul of my firstborn?" He jested a little uneasily, feeling oppressed under the other's slate gaze. Clearly Hjalmar's opinion of Harry had not improved in however many hours it had been since they first met. The blatant distaste for his person caused him to act like a jumpy teenager.

"The first are never born." Hjalmar said, cryptically, but it made all the sense in the world to Harry.

A chill ran the length of Harry's spine as he stopped on his way to the kettle. "What was that?"

"The first. They're never born. Not in our tribe," the elder whitelighter said, matter-of-fact. "But you knew that already, yes?"

It took Harry a few false starts before he could turn back towards the tap and fill the kettle for tea. As the water filled the vessel, he answered over his shoulder. "It happened this morning. Ale hasn't wanted to slow down all day," he admitted, plopping the kettle on the hob and flicking it on. 

"Yes, Flower saw as much in her vision."

Another moment passed before the Brit realized the other meant Alex's many-times-great grandmother. "You call her Flower?" Harry asked, swallowing a titter. 

Hjalmar didn't miss a beat before retorting with his emotionless mask. "You fecundated my grandchild?"

The noise that escaped Harry certainly wasn't a word, nor was it on its way to becoming one. It was more of a strangled, panicked groan that went nowhere. "Er… touché, I suppose." The kettle mercifully whistled, giving Harry an excuse to turn away from Hjalmar and worry his hands with preparing a brew. The tinkling of porcelain mugs was the only thing audible in the tense condo. It seemed all too quickly that Harry was done with preparing their drinks and forced to interact with the tetchy Norseman again. With a sigh, he had placed a cup in front of the Viking. "So, it wasn't something we did? We didn't cause it time-jumping through the Apocalypse?"

Hjalmar stared at the honey-colored liquid gently steaming in a _Hilltowne U_ mug, eyeing it distrustfully. The Brit rolled his eyes, retrieving the mug to take a swig out of it before putting it down once more. Deemed harmless, the older man cradled the mug in his hands with a contented sigh, as if needing to stave off the cold, just as Harry had earlier. "It's not you or Little One," he gruffed before drinking deeply. "A curse from a witch from the crew that brought me to the Island. We were meant to marry, but then we made land and I saw Flower… the bond. Well, you know its siren-call."

"She cursed you when you didn't continue with the rest of the crew?" 

"Broken hearts do stupid things, but that is old news to you, as well. You've certainly gotten around, haven't you?"

Harry gaped. "I do beg your pardon!" 

The other smirked. "I meant that you've had several charges do stupid things, but if the shoe fits."

"Oh." Harry let his shoulders relax, though he still cut harsh glances at the older man who sat quite comfortably on the island stool. "Alex just thought we messed up. I was half-convinced it was the couple hundred volts you put through her," he added, only half-accusing.

"I barely touched her," Hjalmar snapped, glaring over his mug, his cheeks going a deep red. "That spark was a tingle, at most. I– I wouldn't–"

"You wouldn't hurt her. I know. Alex told me as much." Harry leant against the backmost counter, stirring in honey into his tea. "But you must understand my protectiveness. She was alone and without a lifeline for _so bloody long_ and then… I just want to keep her safe and you come off as very unlikeable. You know that, right?"

"Unlikeable has kept us alive. It keeps away those who try to take advantage of the plant guardians' kindness."

"We mean you no harm, Hjalmar," he said, sincerely. "We never did."

The ancient whitelighter laughed; a sound that reverberated through walls despite its low volume. "Boy, you couldn't harm us if you tried your very hardest. The other tribes are just cowardly children who've barely learned to walk, yet. You know as well as I that nothing harms a floramancer unless they want it to."

The thought conjured images of Alex, skin rough as bark, with thorns and wandering vines ready to impale anyone who dare cross her. The episode prior to his short stint in mortality was barely a taste of her true power, but the message carried through, nonetheless: _Don't mess with the plant lady._ "Physical harm has never been Alexandra's biggest problem, in any case."

"Hmm… Psychological warfare. I thought that had died with the world wars, but the Elders made it their pet project." Hjalmar drained the cup, placing it on the counter and crossing his arms. "May I make an observation, Lightbearer?" Harry raised an eyebrow at the term, but nodded, regardless. "You're an awful whitelighter."

Harry let out a dry guffaw. "Thanks!"

"I mean it kindly. You are not controlling of your charges, which makes me wonder why you would want to work for the Elders."

"They sentenced me to die when I was, probably, on my best behavior. What choice did I have?" Harry's voice was quiet and he was staring into his tea as if it contained the secrets of the universe. "If I didn't– God… Mel, Maggie, Macy, Ale, they'd be as good as dead now, and they are more important."

"Yes, they are." Hjalmar agreed. "If they weren't, I wouldn't have taken an arrow in the heart for my wife."

Harry sputtered. "An arr– how did you not die?"

"We used to be made of a heartier stock, child. Revived and healed ourselves."

Something lit up in Harry's eyes. "Well, that explains Alex's resurrection trick."

Hjalmar chuckled. "Not exactly. She shouldn't be able to tap into that magic."

"Since when does that woman play by the rules?" Harry smiled reflexively, his heart aching in fondness before he drained his own cup and placing it into the sink. 

"Could you please refrain from looking so disgustingly in love?"

"I could, but what would be the fun in that?" Harry riposted, smirking cheekily at Hjalmar's dark scowl. "May I ask, what did you see on Yúcahu that made a sea-faring Viking of unprecedented power decide to make home on a small island on the Caribbean?"

Hjalmar smiled, an action that looked foreign on his stern face. His eyes glistened excitedly in the same way Alex's did when presented with particularly challenging puzzle to solve. "The entirety of creation, as it breathed and beat at her singular rhythm." He took a beat to sigh. "And an oak tree."

"How dare you call _me_ disgustingly in love?"

The whooshing of a closing vaccum filled the room. It was accompanied with Alex's voice a moment later. "It's a little bumpier than Harry, I know, but it does the job," she assured. The plant witch rounded the corner with the Charmed Ones in tow. "Oh, God, how long have you two been alone? _What did you say to him?_ " She was staring at Hjalmar with narrowed eyes as the man smirked back in amusement. He could say whatever he wanted, but Harry knew that the old whitelighter loved this obstinate, abrasive flesh and blood of his.

"We were having tea, Little One. I hardly have him in tears, do I?" Hjalmar replied, coolly. "You were gone an eternity."

Alex's anger seemed to dissipate into thin air. "The printer kept stalling." With that, she tossed the stack of papers in her hands onto the island and marched towards Harry. He bent at the knees to allow Alex to give him a quick peck. "Was he behaving?"

"As much as he can, I suppose." He peeked over Alex's head to smile at his charges. "Good afternoon, ladies."

"Hiya, Har Bear!" Maggie greeted with a blinding smile, ignoring the fact that Hjalmar was appraising her and her sisters. 

"Keep your eyes in your skull, dude," Mel quipped, giving Hjalmar a tight-lipped, sarcastic smile. 

Hjalmar smiled. "You're so much like Marisol."

The response made the tight smile melt off of Mel's face, in an instant. "Actually, it’s Maggie who looks the most like her."

"Margarita might look like her the most, but you have her soul, Melanie." There was a collective sense surprise from the sisters that did not fail to amuse Harry or Alex. The old man, they mentally agreed, knew everything. "You got her wit and drive, Macy."

"Thanks... Who are you?" Macy asked, frowning.

"Oh, right," Alex irrupted, remembering herself. "This Norse nuisance is Hjalmar– grandfather with about twenty _greats_ before it. You already seem to know the Charmed Ones."

Maggie wasted no time in laying the flat of her hand on the man's forearm with a look of determination plastered on her face. There were several seconds of tense silence, with everyone watching Maggie and Hjalmar's mental conversation with bated breath. It was another moment still before Maggie pulled her hand away, and instead dove into Hjalmar's arms, wrapping his middle in a vice. To everyone's surprise, Hjalmar looked remarkably pleased by the action, murmuring something under his breath for the empath's ears, only. 

"What the _fuck_?" Alex whispered, confused.

"Welcome to my life," Harry replied to the rhetorical question. "When did Hjalmar arrive?"

"He was already here when I got home, with my copy of Gaiman's Norse Mythology. I think he found it funny," Alex commented, casually. The sisters were chatting animatedly with the other whitelighter now that Maggie had cleared him of any suspicion. 

"He was worried about you. Even if he doesn't say so."

Alex frowned. "Why would he – _sigh_ – Tata." Her round, bright green eyes turned up at the Brit. "It's nice to know there's a soul somewhere in there."

Harry put his arm around Alex's shoulder, feeling her tension ease with his touch. "You're too hard on him."

"He was about to let you die in the middle of the rainforest!"

"To be fair, I would have done the same to protect the four of you," he admitted. The pair started at the sound of cracking thunder, turning to see the Charmed Ones corralled around Hjalmar who was catching lightning, quite literally, in a bottle. 

"What spell keeps the vial from shattering?" Macy asked, turning the bottle in her hands.

"Carbon nanotube coating." He smiled brightly at Macy's surprised look. "You live as long as I have, you get bored, you read a few books." Mirroring eyes battled each other as Hjalmar turned to Alex. "Ready, Little One?"

"Yeah, let me just, er, get my book," Alex replied, tucking out of Harry's arm to disappear into the study where she reemerged with the Book of Light. She turned the pages until she reached a colorfully decorated entry and placed it in beside the unsigned copy of the Peace Treaty. "Whenever you're ready. Read the words, join hands, sign on the dotted line."

Hjalmar stood, all six foot four towering over the sisters, but allowing them to come closer to read from the neatly inked spell that seemed to have been penned ages ago. Nodding at either side of him, the four began reciting the spell together, a promise to come to each other's aid whenever needed and possible. " _Et iurare in animam meam, plebem meam: et terra hodie ut sit tibi et alia malitia diei, quae posthac. Cum hostes tuos iuro ad ostium tuum cibus vix et cum praesidio infirmi prout vultis mihi. Ut invalescentes amicitiam nostris copiosa. Ut sit._ " 

When the last word flew out of their collective mouths, they formed a circle, joining hands as a bright, warm light flowed through their connection followed closely by a set of vines, tying them all together. Light and plant combined until the plants turned silver and gold. The gilded creepers constricted around their wrists before disappearing into their skin, leaving metallic designs behind. One by one, they signed the document and the stack of paper caught aflame, burning purple before disappearing completely. 

"That is that, I suppose," Hjalmar said, placing his hands into his trouser pockets in a casual stance. "Unless we're still missing a blood ritual or something."

"Not this time, Sparky," Alex quipped, rolling her eyes. 

"Then I should be getting back home. If I leave Flower for longer than necessary she starts redecorating," he admitted, to the amusement of the Vera sisters. 

"Come back soon! There's so much more I want to ask you!" Maggie interjected, ever the friendly, gracious host. 

He grinned, infected by Maggie's bubbly personality. "I will tell you the story of your name. It's funny." His looming frame glanced at Alex. "I expect weekly check-ins, Little One. No excuses."

"Sure thing, Tesla coil."

"Dear Lord," Harry started, "you're both being ridiculous! Can we please move on from this game of emotional chicken?" Alex and Hjalmar stared each other down for a long moment, but neither showed desire of doing anything. Harry felt like a kindergarten teacher trying to appease cross toddlers. "Today, please?"

"I guess you could be worse than you are," Alex offered, reluctantly. "Not that the bar is particularly high or–"

"I love you so, Little One. I'm glad you're alive and home." Hjalmar smiled, looking upon this child of his with fondness.

Alex looked flabbergasted. "Wait, what?" Her confusion only rose at the warm embrace that enveloped her and made her skin crackle with static. 

"My darling little Sapling." He kissed her crown and stepped back, rushing to wipe at his eyes. "Thank you for the tea. I shall see you all soon." There was a rumbling crack of thunder and the man was gone. 

"I'm so confused," Alex murmured. "I'm just gonna take a nap."

"You do that. I'll take the girls home," Harry offered, not looking too sure of anything himself. 

After dropping off the Charmed Ones, he found Alex curled in bed with Lemongrass at her chest. The kitten stared at the witch with wide eyes as she breathed evenly in and out, making blooms sprout from her being. "Thank you for watching her. Good boy," he whispered, scratching the kitten under the chin. There was a yip of acknowledgement before the ebony tuft of fur crawled carefully from the void made by Alex's arms and took to his perch on the windowsill. Harry slipped into bed, pulling Alex into him with little more than a tug. 

Alex groaned under her breath and blinked sleepily at Harry. "You're back!"

"Yes, I'm sorry. Does something hurt?" His finger danced lightly on her abdomen, magic itching under his fingertips in a need to ease her discomfort.

She, on the other hand, simply shook her head. "I have really bad cramps from… I just have really bad cramps and then Hjalmar hugged me and I'm just–"

Harry offered a lopsided smile. "Confused?"

"Scared. I could deal with him when he was a sassy bitch. What do I do now?"

Harry snorted, rolling his eyes at the thought, but knowing, deep down that she liked Hjalmar just as much as Hjalmar liked her. She was just so wonderfully stubborn. "Hug him every so often, maybe? He seems to like it."

"I'm serious."

"So am I, love. He's a father who thought he lost his child and now they're back, but in so much pain. I can tell that all he wants is to make up for all the wrong you've been through." Harry's fingers carded through her wild chocolate curls, letting the digits untangle some of the knots and soothe her scalp in minute circles. 

"I'm not in pain," Alex interjected rapidly, almost defensively. "And it's not his place."

"Alexandra, my love–" he stopped halfway through his sentence when he noted the stone cold look in her eyes. "He was just as helpless as Tata to help you. I have scars that only he can tell me how to begin to mend, having been in my same position."

"That's not fair…"

"But it's true and you know it." He craned his neck to press his lips to her crown with a sigh. "You need him, Alex. _We_ need him."

Alex groaned, pout on her lips. "Fine. I'll make nice."


End file.
